Sacred Vessel
by Evergreen
Summary: After Dean and Sam save a woman from being sacrificed to a demon cult, Dean comes face to face with an issue he thought long buried. There were reasons why he should never be a father. Chapter 9 NOW up! Max is keeping a really big secret from the boys.
1. Chapter 1

**Sacred Vessel**

By Evergreen

**A/N: This story is very dark and with somewhat adult themes with some strong language. Please keep a mind to the rating (think at least PG-13)**. **Takes place after the events of the premiere of the second season. Warning: contains spoilers for season 2. **

He adjusted the rear view mirror so he could steal a glance at the figure curled into a ball in the backseat of his Impala. He turned his head to check on his brother, also asleep, but leaned up against the cold glass of the passenger-side window. He rubbed at his eyes distractedly and squinted through the pounding rain on his windshield. The glare from oncoming headlights made it very difficult to see the lines of the road. He prayed silently to make it back to the motel in one piece.

He was way past exhaustion now. He was awake and functioning only on adrenaline and caffeine, the hunter's best friends. His head buzzed like a swarm of bees and he swallowed noisily and hoped that would be enough to keep the contents of his stomach down. He sighed in relief as he saw the blinking neon sign through the dark and sheeting rain. He pulled the car into the parking lot and fished around for the room key in his pocket.

He shook the figure slumped over next to him a little roughly, "C'mon, Sammy, get up, we're here."

"Hmm?" Sam opened his eyes and stared at his brother in confusion. "Where?"

"C'mon, we're back at the motel. Let's get her inside." Dean slid out of the car and into the rain, pushed forward his seat to slide in next to the smaller figure in the back seat. "Get the door, Sam. I have her." He pulled her arm around his shoulders and hefted her out of the car. She barely stirred at the movement. Dean carried the woman into the warmer hotel room and placed her as gently as he could on the bed closer to the door. "Sam, pull the blanket off the other bed and bring it here." Sam dragged off the stubborn comforter and gave the edge of it to Dean. Dean stood up and placed the blanket over her sleeping form, almost reverently.

"How is she?" Sam asked quietly, a little stunned to see his brother be so gentle.

"Don't know, we'll see when she wakes up." Dean sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands, hoping to wake himself up a little more. "You go to sleep, I'll take first watch."

"Dean…"

"Don't _Dean_ me. For once, do what you're told. I'll wake you up in a couple hours." Dean slumped unceremoniously into a chair near the door and placed his feet on the bed where the girl was asleep. He held a large hunting knife in his hands and had the shotgun in his weapons bag within reach. "I'm _fine_, go to sleep," he ground out.

Sam knew not to argue when he was like this, in _protective mode_. He kept his mouth shut as he peeled off his filthy and soaked clothes. It had been a rough couple of weeks, but every week was rough since the _Demon and Dad_. _And Dean's second brush with death_. He often wondered if having two NDE's would catch up to Dean sometime. Dean was barely acknowledging their father's death, let alone dealing with it. It had been four weeks after Dad's death and four weeks since Dean had come back from the brink of death. Dean had healed fairly well, only catching himself sometimes doing a little too much. Sam knew he was trying really hard not to let his injuries show.

He and Dean had followed the trail across the Midwest of a particularly nasty devil-worshipping cult that was attempting to raise a demon. In order to do that, they needed sacrifices. One each night for the past thirty nights. They had managed to stop the final ceremony and rescue the victim, the woman currently asleep on the other bed. She had been captive with the cult for over a month, she was the only one to survive. The surviving members of the cult were currently in custody for the atrocities they had committed. They had to pretend to be FBI agents to get out of being arrested themselves, while law enforcement worked out the details. They managed to leave the scene during the chaos, with the express mission to get the woman back to her family, wherever they were. Sam swallowed against the bile rising in his throat at the thought of all the bodies they had seen at the warehouse. The carnage and the absolute disregard for human life those _people_ had. He glanced quickly at Dean. His brother's eyes were sunken and his face drawn with exhaustion very evident as he watched her. After his shower, Sam almost sighed in pleasure at putting on dry clothes, but he bit his tongue. He and Dean seemed to always be cold and wet since they started this. Wet and cold were not Sam's favorite combination to experience.

"Dean, you _will_ wake me in three hours." Sam stated as more of a warning to Dean not to continue his pattern of self-sacrifice.

"Dude, what did I say?" Dean's voice had an edge of warning, too. _Don't push me_.

"Okay, okay." He slid under the covers of the other bed, closed his eyes and was blissfully unconscious within minutes.

Dean had to pinch the skin between his pointer finger and thumb really hard to keep awake. His head felt very fuzzy and extraordinarily heavy as he fought the constant battle with fatigue. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and almost growled in frustration as he realized the he still had hours to go until morning. His thoughts wandered in disturbingly weird directions, as he hovered around the edge of sleep. He _wasn't_ going to wake Sam up. He never had any intention of it. One of them had to be sharp in the morning and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him. He began running through the events of the past week to see if there had been anything he could've done to save those people. Those helpless women who must've been scared shitless, powerlesss to stop the abject horror they were to face. If only he had figured out what was going on sooner. Then they would've had people to return to their families, not bodies. He had called in the FBI when it was evident that the scope was well beyond what he and Sam were equipped to handle. He and Sam had bluffed their way into FBI investigations before and he knew that they could do it again.

He watched _her_ as she slept, probably for the first time in a long time when she didn't fear for her life. She turned on her back, the lines of her body evident in the watery light from the parking lot floodlights. She was heavily pregnant, as all of the captives had been. The sacrifices were their unborn children, cut from them as they were left to bleed to death, watching the horror of the events. Dean blinked again as he felt his eyelids begin to drop and his eyesight fade into the milky darkness. _No_, he couldn't sleep. He promised her that she would be safe. He never broke a promise. Sam moaned lightly in his sleep, his brain probably rehashing the events of the past month. Dean held his breath and listened very closely. _Something wasn't right_.

Dean's thoughts churned around the horror he had seen when they found her. He tried to put it in a mental box and file it away, never to be contemplated again, but he was having trouble forgetting. His eyes darted back to the lump under the covers on the far bed and chewed his lip unconsciously. He never wanted this for Sam. He should've let him stay in college. He could've found Dad on his own. _Could've, should've, just excuses_. He could only imagine what effect this horror would have on Sam; he was always the sensitive one. Dean thought himself well-shielded from this shit, the shit he and his Dad had dealt with every day that Sam was away. Dean felt filthy, like he was drowning in blood and body parts. Like he could never be clean again. _Stop_. He closed his mind off; at least putting up a flimsy partition between his sanity and the events of last night. He couldn't keep looking at it.

The woman he and Sam had brought back was named Maxine, Max for short. From what little discussion they had, Dean knew she was single, on her own. She was from somewhere out West and didn't have much intention on going back there. She said that she was seven months pregnant and from what he gathered, hadn't been to a doctor in awhile. He blinked again. She had hardly moved in the hours since they got back to the motel. Pure exhaustion and crashing off a huge adrenaline high would do that to you. He glanced at the light beginning to crawl in under the door, illuminating the line of salt he'd carefully laid the night before. He rambled off a protection charm under his breath and made a sign in the air with his fingertips. Just a precaution, he told himself. He couldn't quite shake this bad feeling off. He didn't remember falling asleep. He lived with this _hinky_ feeling all the time now, ever since he woke up in the hospital after the car accident. He thought it felt like an echo of something supernatural, not nearly as strong as Sam could, but it was there. He wouldn't ever let Sam know, though. He needed to be the rock for Sam, no more surprises for a while. All of this current stuff smacked of demon, but he didn't know which one specifically or how to prevent an attack if it chose to go after them now.

He awoke in a start and looked at two empty beds. He was up like a shot and yelled for Sam with panic in his voice.

"Dean, it's okay. I'm right here." Sam came out from the sink alcove outside the bathroom. "Max's taking a shower, we're both fine." He said gently, knowing that Dean was disoriented from just waking up and not finding them.

"What time is it?" Dean sat down hard on the end of Sam's bed, his heart still thumping in his chest. He glanced at the beds and noticed that both were made.

"About six. You've been asleep for awhile. I thought you needed some rest."

"Thanks, I guess. Are you guys hungry? I could grab us some breakfast, I'm starving…" He trailed off when Sam gave him a funny look.

"Dean, it's 6 _pm_. You've been asleep for fourteen hours."

"What?! Why the hell didn't you wake me up? You were unprotected for hours! Goddamnit!"

"You were supposed to wake _me_ up, remember?" Sam stared right back in response to Dean's tirade.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Dean backed down a little bit and pointed his finger towards the bathroom just as they heard the shower turn off. "How's she doing?"

"As well as could be expected, I guess. She hasn't talked much, she's probably still in shock." Sam finished shoving his clothes into a duffle bag on his bed. He and Max barely made eye contact let alone said anything to each other when she woke up. He could tell that she was trying to decide if she could trust them or this was just another elaborate trap.

"Well, you keep an eye on her and I'm going to grab some dinner. We'll hit the road after I get back. I want to get as far away from this place as possible as soon as possible. Make sure we're all packed up." Dean needed to get some air before he said something he would regret. He hated when Sam downplayed the danger they were in. Like Dean was being unreasonable or something. They both had seen everything that was out there; it was amazing that either one of them could ever sleep again. He pulled out his emergency pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and shook one out. He slipped it into his mouth and lit it with his lighter. It was delicious. He pulled in a long drag and started towards to the fast food restaurant down the street.

Sam knew that Dean was pissed. He knew that Dean never had any intention of waking him up and he knew that Dean would be already on his third cigarette before he would come back. He had started again during the hunt for this cult. He figured that everything was just catching up to Dean and he needed some sort of release. Dean didn't know Sam knew about his little _habit_ and Sam meant to keep it that way. He sort of understood that Dean never thought he'd live long enough to get cancer or anything. Seemed kind of anticlimactic to die from smoking after they would've survived everything else they had stood up against. He rubbed his face hard, trying to get himself to wake up. He still felt groggy from the night before. It would take about ten years before he would be rested enough again. Not that Dean didn't feel it worse because he looked like hell when he dragged his ass back into the room.

"Man, Dean, you alright? You look like shit." Sam said, actually meaning it in a concerned way. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and walked over to pick up the weapons bag on the floor closer to the door.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'll be alright. Max done yet?" Dean shoved the rest of his stuff into his black duffle bag.

"She hasn't come out yet and I didn't want to bother her."

"What do you mean? She's been in there, like," he glanced at his watch, "an hour." Dean ran over to the bathroom door and started pounding on it. "Max? You okay? Open up." He tried to control the overwhelming panic that was rising up in his chest, threatening to cut off his air.

The door opened slowly and Max slid out slowly, eyes to the floor. She had her hair wrapped up in one of the hotel's scratchy white towels and was wearing a t-shirt that was too big and sweat pants. "You okay?" Dean asked again, quieter this time.

She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and nodded. "M'fine." Dean slid an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the door.

"We're getting the hell out of here." Dean told the air, but everyone in the room agreed.

Dean felt better after everyone and everything was packed up in the car and they were pulling out of the parking lot. He had grabbed one of the blankets off the bed before they left and covered Max in the back seat. She was curled up like a cat and just stared out the window. He and Sam looked at each other one more time, silently acknowledging their need to keep her safe. Dean reached for the radio's tape deck and turned on his Metallica before pulling onto the freeway and heading west.

He let his mind wander as the miles of road stretched out before him.

"_Dean?"_

"_Yeah?" He looked up from reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. Cassie had just padded into the room on her bare feet with a look of distress on her face. John had been off on some search or another and had left Dean alone for two months. Dean decided to visit Cassie and hadn't left. _

"_I'm late."_

"_What?" His eyes shot over to the clock above the sink. "It's only 7:30."_

"_Not that kind of late, late_, late_." She gave him a determined look._

"That kind of _ late? Are you sure?" Dean had just about spilled his coffee in his lap at her admission._

"_Not really, but I'm never late."_

"_C'mere." Dean grabbed her and sat her on his lap. "Okay, well, if this means there will be a little Dean or Deannette running around, I think I could live with that." He kissed her neck. "Let's go get one of those tests and find out for sure." _

He wasn't sure where that had bubbled up from, except that Max's pregnancy had stirred up some memories that he thought he had long since buried. He had been so happy that day; happy thinking that he could have some shot at being normal. He knew that he would never subject his children to what John had. They didn't need to know everything that was out there. He would protect them. He had a little picture in his head that he would bring out any time that he couldn't believe that things would ever be normal again of a little girl with Cassie's face and his own green eyes. He smiled to himself as the road stretched out again. That was one of those things that he kept to himself. Neither his father nor Sam would ever know.

Sam stirred again and ended up smacking his head on the passenger side window. He blinked and looked around. Dean was staring at the road mouthing the words to the Stones on the radio. Sam stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck.

"How long have I been out?"

"About three hours, we're outside Tulsa. We can stop soon, you know, for dinner and stuff." He nodded towards the back seat. Max was still asleep in the same position she was in when they started, wrapped in a ball.

"Okay. How's she doing?" Sam asked quietly.

"I guess okay. Not a peep this whole time out of either one of you." Sam noticed that Dean seemed a little less wound up as he'd been over the last few days. Maybe because they were now at least 200 miles away from that place.

"Dude, you should let me drive a bit. You haven't had a chance to rest since…" Sam sat up straighter in the seat, knowing full well that Dean would refuse.

"I just slept for 14 hours, I'm fine. We're almost there anyway. Just relax." Dean blew him off. Sam huffed to himself but did not respond. He knew there was really no point.

Dean pulled into a diner parking lot with a blinking sign "Mel's Diner". Dean shook his head at the reference. He hoped at least the food was hot. He would eat his shoe if they heated it up for him. Sam's stomach must be eating itself by now, too. Sam's metabolism was even faster than his own. Sam unfolded himself from the car as Dean pulled open the back door as quietly as he could.

"Max? You awake?" Dean was afraid to touch her as he thought she would jump out of her skin based on her recent experiences. He let out a sigh of relief as she started to stir.

"Hmm?"

"We're here. C'mon, we gonna have some dinner." He made sure that she saw that he was reaching towards her and helped her out of the car. She had sort of a disheveled, wild-eyed look that Dean hoped would fade as she woke up a little more.

"I'll grab us a booth." Sam strode into the diner, while Dean and Max walked slowly towards the door.

"You okay, Max?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Hungry, tired, you know." Her eyes always stayed focused on the ground.

Dean nodded and they walked in silence the rest of the way to the diner's doors.

Ten minutes later, Dean had a cup of steaming coffee gripped in his hands, hoping that the shivers he'd had since they found Max would finally go away. He glanced at Sam, who was doing his best impression of small talk with Max to keep her interest as they waited for their food.

Dean's mind drifted off again as he stared out the window into the rapidly darkening parking lot.

"_The doctor will see you now." Dean followed Cassie and the nurse into an aseptic-smelling exam room. He mentally shuddered, if he never smelled that unique scent again, it would be too soon. It reminded him of all the times he and his family waited to be "fixed up" after a botched job. _

_He sat on a hard chair in the corner as the doctor performed the standard exam on Cassie, knees up, whole nine yards. He had found an interesting spot on the floor and studied it until the doctor stood up and told Cassie that she could get dressed._

"_Well, from what I can determine, you're about 6 weeks along. Pretty early still. I'm going to prescribe some prenatal vitamins for you to help keep up your health. Most likely, you'll deliver around December 15th. Congratulations. You can get dressed and see the receptionist on your way out to make another appointment and to get your prescription." He peeled off his plastic gloves and nodded in Dean's direction. "Take good care of her."_

"_I will."_

"You will what?" Sam was in the middle of biting off a piece of the BLT sandwich he held in his hands.

"Nothing, I was just thinking. How's your sandwich?" Dean answered, not really interested, but wanting to change the subject. He didn't mean to say that out loud. To tell the truth, he never really saw himself as a father. It was simpler to be alone, more mobile, less tied down to anything or anyone. He scanned the clientele of the diner, satisfied that no one seemed out of place or too interested in them. He bit into his hamburger and tried to focus only on the juice dibbling down his chin, not the feeling that he had forgotten to do something very important.

Sam noticed that both of his companions seemed to be in their own worlds and his small talk was going to waste. He decided to be quiet for a few minutes to see if anyone noticed. Five minutes passed, no one said anything. Sam sighed and finished his sandwich. He wondered what Max and Dean were thinking about. About twenty minutes later, Dean seemed to snap out of his brooding and looked up at Sam. "You done?"

"Yeah." Sam said simply, he'd been done for almost fifteen minutes.

"Max?" Dean looked over at the woman next to him.

"I guess." She answered quietly. Dean looked at her plate and noticed that she hadn't eaten much. He refrained from scolding her. He'd have to make sure that she ate better soon. He needed to get her a doctor's appointment as well and that would be another challenge in itself.

"Let's go. Sam, I'll get the bill. I'll meet you at the car," Sam raised his hand to catch the keys that were sailing close to his head and lead Max towards the front door. Dean stuffed the bill in his pocket and headed to the bathroom. He pushed open the door and was relieved to see no one else was in there. He just needed a few minutes to himself. He turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face. He raised his head until he was looking at himself in the cracked mirror. He still looked like death warmed over. After everything that had happened, he wasn't really surprised or anything, but _still_. The waitress hadn't even given him a second glance and that smarted a little bit. After they got Max all squared away, he and Sam would go…go where? They didn't have any more family, no friends. He would find them somewhere to crash and Sam needed to recharge and to grieve. They both needed a little time and space to do that. _Damn, he wanted a cigarette_. They would smell it on him if he smoked one before getting in the car. He'd wait until they got a hotel room and he'd sneak out. He took a deep breath and pulled open the door back to the restaurant. A creepy feeling stole up his spine and he knew what it meant now. Some_thing_ was around. _Know what?_ He didn't have to kill everything, not tonight anyway. He decided to let whatever it was hang around. _Live and let live and all that_. _Well, as close to it as those things can get anyway._ He forced his hands to stop shaking as he paid the bill. "Motel?" He asked the cashier.

"Down the street on the right. Not fancy, but clean."

"Perfect."

After midnight, he found himself sitting on the curb outside of the motel room they had, sucking on his third cigarette, second to last in the pack. Sam and Max had instantly crashed, and Dean had really tried to, but couldn't, turn his mind off. He slowly blew the smoke out and thought about _that night_.

He remembered the look on Cassie's face when she had realized something wasn't right. He had come back from a job with his dad, when Cassie was in her fourth month, just beginning to show, around mid-August. She had been pissed when he had to go away for a few weeks. His father had a line on a nest of vampires terrorizing a town in the Midwest. Would take a while. He tried not to let the thought of impending fatherhood distract him from the task at hand, but it was more difficult with every passing day. His father had leaned into him pretty hard about not being on top of his game after he had gotten the wind knocked out of him by a girl vampire. He had mentally kicked himself pretty hard about that one, but he wanted to get back to Cassie really badly. He wanted to tell his dad about the situation, but he couldn't seem to find the right words or the right time. He knew that his father would berate him for being irresponsible and all that shit, and he wanted to avoid that as long as possible. He dropped his father off at Father Jim's to work on some project and Dean told him that he'd be available by phone, if needed. That he had his own project to take care of. His father didn't ask and Dean didn't tell. He'd tell his old man when he was good and ready.

Things were really good for a few days when he got back to Cassie's. She seemed a little miffed at him when he first came back, but warmed up by the end of the first day. They discussed the future and names and all that stuff that they thought they should talk about. Neither one had a lot of recent experience with kids. Dean had really only taken care of Sam, but Sam was in college now. Dean and Cassie were wrapped up in each other, sleeping, at 3 am on the third day. Dean stirred first, not really sure why he had woken up. Cassie seemed to be hitching her breath, but she was still sleeping. Then, not one minute later, she sat bolt upright, grasping her midsection.

"_What's wrong?" Dean asked, his stomach falling around his feet._

"_I don't know, my stomach really hurts. Cramps, really. Wait a little bit to see what it is, okay?" She lay back down and snuggled up next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and waited, his heart pounding a staccato against his chest. He could feel her stiffening up every few minutes as they were both praying that it would go away. _

_After a half an hour of listening to Cassie try not to make any noise, he decided they had to do something. "C'mon, we're going to Emergency. If it's nothing, then we'll have a little laugh over it. If it's something, then we'll be in the right place to get help, okay?" He wasn't really asking as he got out of bed and began pulling on a pair of jeans. _

Sam woke up disoriented and a little panicked before he remembered where he was. He glanced at the clock and it told him that it was just after 3 am. Max was asleep in the bed next to his, but Dean was nowhere to be found. Sam got up and walked over to the window and pulled aside the crusty curtain. Illuminated by a lone street lamp, Dean was sitting on the curb outside, taking a drag on his cigarette and staring out into the parking lot. Sam quietly opened the door as Dean's head whipped around.

"Oh hey, you got me. I wasn't about to grind out my last smoke. You okay?" Dean asked quietly and he blew the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, fine. I just wondered where you were." Sam sat down next to Dean and a silence descended between the two. Dean pulled one last drag out of his cigarette and rubbed it out on the concrete curb next to him.

"You sure? 'Cause you don't look fine."

"Well, you don't look like Miss America either. It's going to take awhile before we're back to…"

"To what? _Normal_?" Dean laughed silently and looked back at the ground.

"Normal for us, anyway. What are we going to do with Max? Any plan?" Sam asked with a more serious tone.

"I thought we'd just wander around dragging a very pregnant woman around with us and see if she wanted to stop anywhere." Dean paused. "No, I'm not really sure. I want to leave it up to her. She can stay with use for a while or she can go anywhere she wants to. I want to give her some measure of control of her own life for once."

"Projecting much?" Sam asked, not quite sure if he was kidding with Dean.

Dean didn't answer, but stood up. "I'm gonna get another pack of smokes. I'm all out. Will you be okay for a little bit?"

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye on her. I'll call you if anything happens." Dean nodded and headed off towards the 24-hour convenience store down the street. Sam stood up and padded back into the dark room, pulling the door closed as quietly as he could. He had to bite his tongue and not lecture Dean on the evils of smoking.

"Dean?" A small voice came from the darkness.

"No, Max. It's Sam. Dean went to the store. He'll be back really soon." He didn't know why, but he was a little disappointed that it was Dean she had asked for. He crawled back into his rapidly cooling bed and listened for Max to fall back to sleep. He waited until he heard the door open and Dean lay down before succumbing to sleep himself.

Dean felt like his head was in a fog. He knew that he kept up with this schedule of not sleeping and eating, he wasn't going to be able to keep on top of his game. He lay down next to Sam on top of the covers, not bothering to change out of his clothes, knowing full well that he wasn't going to sleep more than a few hours. _God, he was so tired._

"_Mr. Winchester, you can come in now." His head shot up as a nurse walked towards him in the waiting area of the emergency room. _

"_Is she okay?" He asked, searching the nurse's face for any idea of what happened. _

"_She'll be fine. Why don't you go in and talk with her?" She smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and strode off down the hall._

_Dean swallowed hard and pushed open the door to her room. She looked exhausted and somehow small against the starched white of the hospital bed. _

_Her eyes opened and searched his face, swimming with tears. "Dean, I lost the baby." _

_With those words, his world became very small and included only the two of them. He sat down next to her and pulled her into him. She sobbed until she was drained and he gently laid her head back on her pillow. Her eyes fluttered closed. He gently pulled her hand out of his and he backed out of the room as quietly as he could. She didn't stir as he closed the door behind him. _

_A million thoughts swam around his head. He didn't know what to do with all of this. He made his way out of the hospital and towards his car. He climbed in and slammed the door closed. It was impossibly quiet. The parking lot was still dark and the street lamps shone on the mist that swirled around. His head roared with emotions, but he had nowhere to go and no one to tell. He leaned across the front seat and pushed open the glove box. He fished around until his hand hit on what he was looking for- a slightly crushed, probably really stale pack of Marlboros. It may have been Father Jim that had left them or someone else, he didn't care. He ripped off the plastic and rhythmically pounded the box into his hand. He pulled one out and stuck it in his lips. He grabbed the lighter from his jacket pocket and lit it. He pulled in a long drag and stopped thinking about everything for a while. _

He hadn't had a smoke again until they started hunting this cult and hadn't stopped since. He didn't rwally know why he had started up again. He knew that Sam was worried about him. _But hell, he wasn't supposed to be here anyway, so who cared if he died from lung cancer?_ He must've fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Sam was shaking him awake.

"Dean. Wake up. It's 9 am, we should go." His eyes met Sam's worried ones.

Dean dragged himself to a sitting position and looked at Sam again. "Everything okay? Why do you look so worried? Is Max okay?" He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and waited for Sam's answer.

"It's okay. Max's fine, she's just getting dressed in the bathroom. I had a hard time waking you up, that's all. You don't usually sleep so deeply." Sam seemed to be humming with concern. Dean could practically see him vibrating.

"Yeah, well, I guess I was tired. I'm awake now, so you can stop with the Mother Hen routine." He tried to shake off Sam's concern, but it swirled around in his brain a little longer than he wanted. "Any coffee?" Dean pulled the tee-shirt that he was wearing off over his head and fished a new one out of his bag. He didn't feel quite right, but he wasn't going to share that little tidbit with Sam.

_If in doubt, change the subject. Pure Dean._ "There's a large coffee on the table for you. I hope it's not cold, I got it a little while ago." Sam stuffed his belongings into a duffle bag, not caring that he was wrinkling every last piece of clothing that he had. Sam fervently hoped that Dean would eventually break himself out of this funk; it was getting old really fast. He sighed and zipped up his bag. He looked over at Dean who was practically gulping down the coffee.

"Hey, Max, you almost done?" Dean turned and knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." _She almost sounded normal there_. He looked over at Sam who was in turn, staring at him.

"Dude, what?" Dean asked with more than a little edge of annoyance in his voice. _Man, he felt crabby, like he hadn't slept in days. _He definitely wasn't in the mood for one of Sam's interrogations about his feelings or some other shit like that.

"Are you okay? You seem _off_." Sam cocked his head slightly as he spoke. Dean didn't like that affectation. It meant that Sam was confused about something, usually about something that Dean had said or did.

"Just tired, I'm fine. I'll be better once this caffeine kicks in." He held up his coffee cup in demonstration, purposely answering in a softer tone. "We can go as soon as I'm finished. Okay?" He deflected Sam's concern again. Truth was he did feel a little _off._ Like something was just tickling the edge of his consciousness, like he was trying to remember a dream he had forgotten as soon as he had woken up. He was used to that. It seemed to be happening more often than not since Dad's death. He didn't remember anything from the time he spent in the hospital after the accident and before he woke up. Sam had been unusually quiet about what had happened. Sam had mentioned something about a reaper, but again, it was all really fuzzy. His Dad's dying was really clear. He remembered the medical staff trying to get his Dad back, but Dean had known deep down that he wasn't coming back. Dean usually had no trouble getting Sam to open up about his experiences, even if it took a little bit of manipulation to get it.

Max came out and walked over to the bed and sat down, all without any eye contact with the brothers. "Uh, Sam? Why don't you get this stuff in the car?" Dean nodded his head towards Sam and Sam nodded back.

"Okay, Dean. I'll be outside if you need me." Sam hefted several bags onto his shoulders and made a concerted effort to seem focused on leaving the room.

"Whew, I thought he'd never leave." Dean said quietly to himself. He looked over to Max, trying to catch her eye.

After a few minutes, Dean was getting a little impatient. "Max?"

She looked up. "Max, I think we need to talk." He watched as she walked slowly over to him and sat down on the bed across from him.

"I guess you're right." She paused and sighed. "I've been avoiding the two of you for days, trying to figure out what to do." She turned her blue eyes upwards until they met his green. "First, Dean, before you say anything else, I want to make sure that you and Sam know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me. You saved my life and my baby. I can never repay that. I didn't mean to appear ungrateful. That being said, I also want you to know that you aren't obligated in any way, shape or form, to continue to look after me. You can get rid of me anytime you want." As she started to stand up, Dean raised his arm and gently guided her back to the bed.

"That's not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that we know what kind of hell you went through and we weren't expecting you to gush, or even want to talk for awhile. That kind of horror puts you in a different place, one that's very hard to come back from." He looked down. "Um, well, I just wanted to ask if you needed medical attention or anything. You know, for the baby. We just want to get you safe, that's all." He looked up as she took his hand.

"Thanks for your concern, Dean. I actually would feel a little bit better if I could see a doctor. Just to make sure everything's okay. That's a good idea." A small smile appeared on her face. Warmth spread through his chest at the sight of it.

Dean smiled back. Somehow she had become the comforter instead of the person who was being comforted. That was such a _girl_ thing. It was something that Cassie did and until just then, he didn't realize how much he missed it. "Well, okay. Let's get finished up here and we'll find ourselves a baby doctor." He flashed her one of his patented smiles again and helped her with her small bag.

"Uh, Max?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Was there anywhere in particular you wanted to go after this? Any family we can bring you to? What about the baby's father?

"I have some family in Colorado, I guess. We're not that close, but I think they'd give me someplace to stay while I got things settled. I'm not really sure where the baby's father is, he was shipped out to Iraq a few months ago. He doesn't even know about the baby. He's in some covert group and I don't even know if the letters I sent ever got to him." Her head dropped. "I really wanted to tell him in person, you know. Or even on the phone or something. It's not like we were all that serious or anything, we were just really good friends. I hope he's okay."

"I hope so, too. Well, maybe we can figure out where your family is and we can go talk to them. See if they can help you." He put his hand on her shoulder.

She covered his hand with her own. "Thanks, Dean."

They drove west for hours. Dean actually let Sam drive because he didn't fell quite right yet. Usually that wouldn't prevent him from driving, but Max made him feel a little more protective. Dean's head fell against the headrest and he let his eyes close and his mind wander.

_He found himself in the middle of a fire fight, but not the kind that he was used to. He was holding an M-16 and his arm was covered by a brown and tan camouflage jacket. He was crouched behind a burned out car and had been intermittently firing in the direction of a destroyed building. His heart was racing so fast, he was sure that he was headed for a heart attack. Max's smiling and laughing face flashed into his mind. Members of a similarly-dressed group were firing at the same building and were yelling at him to follow them. Heat and smoke made it hard for him to see and hear what they were saying. He broke from his cover and ran after the last of group, hoping like hell that the shots being fired from the building would miss him. He looked up at the sky at the unmistakable sound of a missile winding its way to his position. "Watson!" he heard someone yell as the projectile weapon found its mark. He didn't even have time to scream. _

He jerked awake and smacked his head against the window. "What the hell?"

"You okay, Dean? You were moaning in your sleep. I was about to wake you." Sam turned his head slightly without taking his eyes off the road.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just a bad dream. Are we in Texas yet? There's a good hospital in Amarillo. Max should see a doctor." Dean rubbed his head and sat up straighter in his seat. He swore he could still smell charred flesh. He hated that smell. He cracked open the window and stared out of it, determined not to think about anything anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**(A/N: Same warnings as before, spoilers for Season 2)**

They got in around dinnertime. Pretty quiet in the ER. Dean sat next to Sam in the waiting area as Max was getting checked out, desperately trying to get that dream out of his mind. Dean was also trying to ignore the creepy-crawly sensation he got every time he was in or near a hospital. Too many memories, he supposed. Dean stole a look at Sam, who seemed to be thinking about something pretty intense himself.

Sam's thoughts swirled around the last time he and Dean had spent in the hospital. After the car wreck, after Dean and Dad _died_. Only Dean came _back_. He never really had told Dean about his talking to Dean's _spirit_ while he was in a coma through the Ouija board. Dean had told him something about a Reaper and Sam knew that it was after Dean. Dean knew it too at the time, but had never made reference to it again. Sam was a little more than relieved that Dean didn't seem to remember any of his out of body experiences when he woke up. Too much stuff happened after Dad died and he let the topic fall to the wayside. Sam wondered if Dean would ever remember what happened, especially after all the time they did seem to spend in a medical setting. Dean had been acting strange ever since he woke up, but Sam had chalked it up to trying to suppress his feelings about their Dad's death. _Maybe there was something else._

Dean's eyes began to slide shut, his head heavy as lead, as he listened to the bustle of the hospital, all white noise to him. At least here if anything happened to him or to Sam, there was help really close by. Not that had helped with their Dad,but it helped to keep a little hope. The last thing Dean thought of as he slipped away into unconsciousness was wondering how Max was doing.

"_Get Doctor Heighton in here, stat! This one's busted up pretty bad, missile strike on their position. He needs type and cross. We need to get him into surgery right away. Where's the doctor?"_

_Dean couldn't feel anything- not his hands, his feet, or his body. He was just numb and kind of floaty. He was watching the activity swirl around him but knew somehow that he couldn't be seeing all this with his eyes closed. He didn't remember getting there at all. _What were they doing?_ Then like throwing open the curtains in a dark room, the pain flooded into his senses and that was all he knew. He couldn't hear or see anything else, except someone next to him screaming. His mind flipped between some smiling older people and Max. She smiled brightly at him while they were washing dishes together in a tiny kitchen. He splashed her with soapy water and she threw a sopping sponge at him. _

_Words like "blood loss", "reconstruction", "disability" and "low chance of survival" filtered past him as they pumped painkillers and fluids into his body. He found it difficult to pay any more attention as the last five words that he would ever hear were said, "Time of death- 1430 hours"._

"_No!"_

"Dean, wake up! You're having a nightmare!" Sam felt a little strange being in the position as the comforter rather than the one with the night terrors.

"Holy _shit_!" Dean found himself in a tangle of limbs on the floor of the waiting room with all eyes on him. Sam was starting to reach towards him, "Let go. I'm fine!" Dean pulled his arm out of Sam's grasp. He kept sitting on the floor until his heart and breathing calmed a little bit.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam's eyes betrayed his anxiety at Dean's behavior. Dean had been increasingly distracted and impatient ever since they came off the last job. Dean's expression hardened at his question and Sam knew not to ask again. He backed off and let Dean get up and sit back down the chair. Sam glanced up at the medical personnel who were watching from the hallway and he waved them away, "He's fine. Thanks."

_Goddammit_, he was tired. These little episodes of _Death Watch _were getting really old, really fast. Dean rubbed at his eyes and suddenly felt the need to hole up somewhere by himself. He was really sick of being monitored all the time. "I need some air. I'll be back in a few." He really meant more than a few, but didn't want to worry Sam into following him outside. He tapped his cigarette box into his hand unconsciously as he mentally reviewed the dream. _Damn, was that what happened to him after the crash?_ He was pretty damn sure it was a truck that crashed into them, not a missile. Sam never told him what exactly happened and he really didn't want to know if he couldn't remember it on his own. Usually there was a reason for that. He remembered the medical staff working on their Dad pretty clearly though. He could've sworn that the hospital from his dream looked different from the one he woke up in after the crash and the missile thing was weird. Maybe his mind was twisting everything up. He _should_ talk to Sam about it. He just didn't _want_ to. He cupped his hands around the match as he lit the cigarette already held between his lips. He felt the overwhelming need to have all of this over- get Max to her family, let Sam get back to his life, and he could just on by himself. He managed to do a decent job when his Dad let him do solo jobs, he would just work more of that shit himself. He didn't want to worry about what was going on with Sam. He wanted to let the kid have his normal life. But the demon was still out there. _It was going to happen sometime, why wait?_

He heard Sam and Max coming out to the car before he saw them. He actually had her talking and laughing. Sam always could get people to open up to him. _A great talent of Sam's_. Dean smiled to himself as he stomped out his second cigarette of the evening into the black asphalt of the parking lot.

Sam wondered at the devil-may-care attitude that radiated off of Dean since they all met up back at the car. Max had been given a clean bill of health, a bottle of prenatal vitamins and the recommendation to get more check-ups before the baby came. Dean seemed relaxed even, but quieter than normal. Sam shook his head to himself as they headed northwest, towards Boulder.

They stopped in Wichita, KS after about two and half hours of driving. It was starting to get late, but not too late to grab a drink. Dean was truly tired, the kind of tired he hoped would allow him to sleep without dreaming, especially if he had knocked back a few. He pulled the car into the parking lot of the _Wichita Sweet Dreams Mote_l and parked in front of the main office. The neon sign sputtered a bit, but the place seemed pretty calm. He left Max and Sam asleep in the car and he slowly closed the door to quiet the loud creak that was characteristic of his car. His _hinky_ feeling crept up his spine as he opened the door to the office and glanced towards the desk. He walked up to the tired-looking night manager and asked for a room and a cot. He paid with his last remaining cash and confirmed that he would definitely have to go out tonight. _Unwind and make a little hustling cash_. He purposely ignored his _feeling_ and grabbed the key out of the man's hand and went back out to the car.

"_Cassie?" Dean asked quietly as he peered into the darkness of her bedroom. _

"_Dean, don't." _

"_Don't, what?"_

"_Don't come in here. I can't talk to you right now. I need to be alone, okay? I'm sorry."_

_He closed the door and walked back out into the living room. He felt the crushing weight of Cassie's grief, of his own. He desperately wanted to call Sam and tell him what happened. He didn't want to burden Sam with this either. He would just carry it, like he carried everything else. His mother's death, his father's emotional withdrawal, Sammy's leaving. He survived those things. He would survive this, too. He began stuffing his belongings into his duffel bag. He would leave Cassie to deal with this on her own, like she wanted. He felt like shit leaving her here, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to help her through this. Hell, he didn't think that he could even help himself through this. _

They got settled into the room and Dean left Sam on his laptop and Max watching TV. "I won't be too long." He told the both of them and then specifically to Sam, "Don't wait up."

"Okay, _Dad_." As soon as Sam said it, Dean's face paled. "I'm sorry, you know what I meant…" He stuttered to Dean.

"Dude, it's fine. You're allowed to say his name. I'll be back soon. Be good. And I want a salt line the second this door closes." Sam nodded.

_Holy shit_, Dean hadn't expected the mere mention of his father to hit him so hard. He worked very hard to make sure that his feelings about all of that were behind tightly shut doors. He couldn't walk around that _raw_ all the time, like Sam did. He had to be protected so he could focus on the job and keep him and Sam safe. That was what his Dad had wanted. What his father had asked for that night in the hospital. Dean sighed and started walking into the night, towards what he hoped was a decent dive with excellent pool tables. He needed a drink and he needed to beat some poor sucker into paying for their hotel stay and some meals.

If Sam could've melted into the floor at that moment after joking about Dad, he would have. The look on Dean's face wilted any humor on Sam's tongue. He had berated Dean many times about dealing with Dad's death, but he knew that Dean wouldn't let anything out. He was king of pent-up emotions. He just hoped that he was around when Dean finally burst.

"Sam?" Max asked. He glanced over at her, somewhat perched on the bed, trying not roll over towards the middle of the sunken bed mattress.

"Hey, sorry about that." He smiled and pointed at the mattress, "And that."

"Nothing to be sorry about, I've slept on worse. Sam, what's with Dean? Is it me?" She asked with a sincere look on her face.

"No, I think it's just family stuff. Our Dad died only a few weeks ago. Dean's pretty broken up about it, but he never lets it out. It's hard to believe it's real. That he's really gone." He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable sharing stuff with Max that he couldn't with Dean. Maybe because she reminded him just a little bit of Jessica. Although he never shared the family business with her, they had spent many hours exploring each other's psyches. He sat down on the edge of Max's bed.

"My mother died when I was seven and my dad left not much longer after that. I lived with my cousins for awhile and some other family members. When I was sixteen, I just left. I never went back. I called a few times to let them know I was still alive and okay, but I couldn't bring myself to go back there. Too many reminders of my mother. I have no idea where my father is of if he's even still alive." She had sat up straighter and looked him right in the eye when she spoke.

"Our mother died when I was a baby and Dean was just a little kid. I really don't have any memories of her. I have a few pictures in my head of what I think she was like from the stories that Dad and Dean used to tell. She…she was killed by a demon. That's why we do what we do. It became our Dad's reason to live and ours by default. That demon is still out there and it's Dean's and my mission to kill it." Sam's eyes shone with the relief of sharing that burden with someone who knew that there _were_ monsters in the closet.

She nodded and rubbed her stomach. She shifted in the bed to get more comfortable. "I'm sorry that you and Dean never had the chance to have a childhood. Never had the chance to know your mother- have her waiting for you when you got home from school or comfort you after you had a nightmare. I felt cheated for not having that." She looked down. "It took my a long time to realize that other people had it worse than I did, that I did have a family that cared for me in their own way. That's why I think I need to go back and see them. To let them know that I understand now, what they gave me."

Sam started to get up from the bed. "Dean would do anything for you, you know. He loves you more than himself." Max said softly.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm afraid of."

Dean was letting this guy win in order to make him careless. Number one rule of pool hustling- _let them get cocky and make stupid mistakes_. Easier to separate them from their money. He had already downed three beers and was starting to feel a slight buzz. Thank god for the imported stuff, smoother than some of the popular watered-down crap. The guy was lining up his shot as Dean studied him. Kind of tall, skinny, greasy hair, smoker, wishes he was cooler with the ladies. Dean sat back and gave his patented "don't give a shit" look to the crowd that had started to gather around the table.

Sam woke with start, his laptop sliding dangerously towards the edge of the bed, not realizing that he had fallen asleep. The TV set was set on some infomercial and Max was snuggled into the comforter of the bed. He closed his laptop and placed it gently on his bedside table. It was dark in the room and he was about to fall back to sleep before he realized that Dean wasn't back. That usually wasn't all that strange; sometimes Dean would go home with some girl he had hooked up with at the bar. Usually Dean would make it back to the room around dawn. He just felt that Dean should be back by now. He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and he practically yelped when he noticed that it said "6:00 am" in angry red numbers. He grabbed his cell phone and frantically dialed Dean's number. The phone went to voicemail after ringing five times. "Dean? Dean, you'd better be okay. If I don't hear from you in thirty minutes, I'm coming after you. Call me and I mean immediately." He angrily slammed his phone shut. _How dare he stay out all hours?_ He was probably sleeping it off at some girl's place, but Sam never knew with Dean. He could just as easily be crumpled in some back alley or passed out under the pool table for all he knew.

Sam watched the numbers change on the clock until it slowly crept up to 6:30 am. He flipped his phone back open and hit "send" to redial Dean's phone. He was about to hang up again after 4 rings when the phone picked up.

"Hello?" Sam asked when nobody seemed to answer the phone.

"This is Officer Randall Greene of the Wichita Police Department. Who is this?"

"My name is Sam. Where is my brother?" Sam's anxiety level shot up. Dean would never knowingly get anywhere near the police. Not after he supposedly killed someone. There would be fingerprint records if he had gotten arrested. _Very bad, very, very, bad_.

"There's a guy here who's been calling himself '_John Watson_'. He your brother?" The gruff voice asked.

"Yeah, that's right." Sam, for the life of him, couldn't remember Dean ever using that alias, but it had to be Dean. It sounded more like one of their father's aliases. It was Dean's phone, right? "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Well, he managed to get in the middle of a domestic situation and got a little messed up. He's sleeping it off in the Drunk Tank right now. The others decided not to press charges. You wanna come get him?"

"Thanks, Officer Greene, I'll be right down. Where's the station located?" Sam left Max at the hotel and had grabbed a cab to the police station within fifteen minutes of hanging up the phone.

Sam wasn't prepared for the sight when he finally laid eyes on Dean after completing reams of paperwork. He was folded up in the corner of the darkened cell, no movement, no sound. The officer let Sam into the nearly empty cell. He wasn't a little messed up, he was a train wreck. Tears sprang to Sam's eyes unbidden, but he'd never seen Dean look this bad except after what the Demon had done to him in the cabin. Dean's hair was slicked down in blood that also had dried on the right side of his face. His right eye was swollen shut. His arms were wrapped protectively around his midsection and he was curled up in a semi-fetal position, still upright. "Dean? Dean? You okay?" Sam knelt down and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.

It took a minute, but Dean stirred and opened his good eye. "Sammy? What happened?" He tried to straighten out in preparation to stand, but he yelped, grabbed his ribs, and fell to his knees. "Oh, shit." He looked up at Sam as blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Officer! We need an ambulance!"


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: see previous chapter notes for warnings and some salty language. Thanks for reading and please review!)**

After a frantic ambulance ride to the hospital, Sam was drained of all of his energy. He was waiting in the emergency room while the doctors were running tests to determine if Dean had internal bleeding. Sam was getting really sick of spending time in this place. _Same shit, different hospital_- should have been their motto. He looked at his hands, covered with dried blood, and wondered how many liters of Dean's blood he had worn over the years. He shook the dark thoughts away as the doctor approached.

"Mr. Watson?" Sam blinked again at that name. They had never used it before.

A moment passed. "Yes? How's... my brother?" He couldn't remember for the life of him what the officer had told him was the first name that Dean had given. _Oh yeah, John- how could he have forgotten_?

"Your brother has two cracked ribs and one had nicked his lung. The tests showed that the bleeding seemed to have sealed itself, so we are hopeful that he won't need any surgery. He also has a slight concussion. We would like to keep him for a few days for observation. We're going to give him some fluid replacement to help stabilize his electrolytes, which were dangerously off-balance. We're also treating him for alcohol poisoning."

Sam blinked, but said nothing. He felt all the blood drain out of his face. This was so _not_ Dean.

"Mr. Watson, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?" The doctor took Sam's elbow and lowered him to the chair. "He will be fine, if he stays of trouble. From the amount of scarring we saw on his body, it looks like he doesn't really know how to do that, does he?"

"You could say that." _If he only knew the real story_.

"If you need the name of a good alcohol treatment center, I can certainly vouch for a few. If your brother is as out of control as it appears, then you will need to help him to make a choice- _keep living like this and die young, or change_."

He was _not_ hearing this. The doctor had no right to think Dean was doing all of this himself. He was about to correct him when he thought better of it. Better to agree and let their memory fade into the background for this doctor_- just another drunk_. "Thanks, Doctor. I'll keep it in mind. Can I see him now?"

"Sure, follow me."

Dean was dozing when Sam walked into the room. Sam flashed on the _other_ hospital room, when Dean was dying from the Demon-inflicted wounds. His breath caught in his throat and Dean's eyes opened.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean's eyes cracked open. Sam closed the gap between them in seconds.

"Don't _hey_ me, Dean. What the hell happened?" Sam leaned in close to whisper the question that was burning on his tongue since he saw Dean in the jail cell. The question came out as more of a hiss than a whisper.

A look passed over Dean's face that stopped Sam cold, but as soon as it had happened, it was over. Back in place was the Dean mask of 'I'm fine, Sammy'. "Nothing, I got in a fight. That's all." Dean didn't look at Sam when he answered. Sam knew Dean was lying to him.

"Are you _fucking _kidding me? _You got in a fight!_ That was no fight, you got beaten into a pulp! You got _arrested_ for God's sake! You know how dangerous that is. You're in the police national database! That was so stupid, even for you!" Sam knew he was screaming, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Sam, take a breath. Everything's fine, okay? I'll be fine. Nobody in this podunk town knows me from anybody. We'll just get out of here and be on our way. Is Max okay? You better have not left her alone all this time? Did you leave protection for her?" He was slowly starting to fold up in preparation to sliding his legs out of the bed to stand up. He practically bit through his tongue to keep from yelling out. He felt as if his lungs were on fire- like he had been stabbed with a white-hot poker. He kept his face as passive as he could, controlling the grimace of pain with the highest level of will he possessed. _Fucking hell and damnation, that hurt!_

"Yes, I left her safe and sound at the motel with strict orders not to leave the room. She has my cell number in case she needed us. I put a protection charm on the room and left a salt line over the doors and windows. Of course, I never expected you to be this _fucked_ up." Sam slipped Dean's left arm around his shoulders, hunching to accommodate his brother's shorter stature. "And yes, I called her with an update. She's fine." he responded to Dean's stare. Dean hissed at the movement but didn't stop their shuffling towards the door. "Do you want a wheelchair?" Sam asked quietly.

"I'm fine, Sammy, I'm always fine." Except that he _wasn't_ fine. Not even close. He hurt like hell, he couldn't quite stand up straight, and he was sure that he had a knife sticking out of his chest somewhere. He felt so wrung out that he wasn't even sure that he was actually conscious and that all of this wasn't a dream.

Dean was quiet in the car as Sam drove them back to the motel. Dean smirked a little at the thought of the hospital staff coming in and finding him gone. He'd gone AMA so many times and it felt a little good to stick it to the authority types. Hell, he knew more about his own good than they ever would. He had sighed in relief after they made it to the car. He would've sworn if that damn car was any further from the door, Sam would be dragging a dead weight. He leaned his head back into the headrest and closed his eyes. Sam had asked him what had happened back in the hospital room. Truth was Dean had _absolutely no idea_ what had happened. The last he remembered was playing a game of pool with some sucker. He thought really hard about that evening and it was all a blank, like someone had wiped it out of his memory. The only reason he knew that something had happened was all the physical evidence. You'd think he'd remember getting the shit kicked out of him.

Sam noticed how quiet Dean was and worried. He was always worried. Something more than a fight had happened, of that he was sure. How he would get Dean to tell him about would be something else. A thought crossed his mind. "Dean?"

"Hmm?" He didn't open his eyes. He really didn't even want to talk.

"Why did you use the name John Watson? That's not one of our usual aliases. Is it one of Dad's or something?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't give them any names, not that I remember anyway. I thought you told them something to put on the damn medical files." Dean's voice had an edge to it.

Sam pulled over. "Dean." He turned, faced his brother and stared at him right in the eyes. "When I called you cell phone, a police officer answered and told me that you said your name was John Watson. Does that sound familiar to you?"

"_No_, should it? I think that officer's a little loopy or something, because I didn't tell him any damn thing." A dark, heavy feeling in his gut told Dean that something was going on- something that he should remember, but didn't. He shook his head. "Sam, let's go already. Max's waiting."

Thankfully, Sam let it drop and was quiet all the way back to the motel.

"God, Dean. You look like shit." Max opened the door and came out to help Sam get Dean into the room.

"Thanks, Max. Didn't know you cared." Dean groaned as they tried to gently lay him on the bed.

"Sam, why's he even out of the hospital? He's so pale." She stood next to Sam and said quietly near Sam's ear.

"Um, right here. I can hear you. I'm fine. I'll _be_ fine, here or in the damned hospital. So we might as well get that out of the way..." He coughed lightly and stopped breathing at the sharp stab of pain that followed. "Sam, get me some aspirin or a gun or something." _Note to self: do not cough again._

"You're supposed to take some antibiotics and this codeine. I saw it on your chart and took them off the med. cart." Sam held his hand out over Dean's chest. "Here." He grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and waited until Dean popped the pills into his mouth. He held Dean's head up a little bit so he could take a swig of water to wash down the pills.

"Thanks." Dean said quietly, actually meaning what he said.

Max sat next to him and laid her hand on his forehead. "Sam, he seems a little bit warm. Could you grab a washcloth from the bathroom and put some ice chips in it?" Dean's eyes closed under her gentle stroking of the top of his head. He flashed to a time his mother had done the very same thing when he was sick as a small child.

A minute later she tucked the washcloth under his neck to help keep his temperature down. She kept up the rhythmic stroking of his head until she saw Dean's breathing even out. Sam had never seen him settle down so quickly.

"He's asleep. Now, Sam, what happened? Wasn't he just going out for a drink?" Max whispered to Sam, but didn't move.

"The thing is he wouldn't tell me what happened. He said he just got in a fight. The police office had said he got in the middle of some domestic situation. They picked him up for disorderly conduct and let him sleep it off in the drunk tank. They obviously had no idea how injured he was. Dean would've never let on either. His arm could've been hanging off his shoulder and he would've shrugged it off. He's very stubborn like that." He stopped and looked at her. "Do you really want to hear this or are you just being polite?"

"Sam. I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't interested. Okay?" She repositioned herself on Dean's bed so she faced Sam on the opposite bed. She mumbled something under her breath and she grabbed at her abdomen.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, sorry. The baby just stepped on my bladder. Do you mind? I'll be right back." She struggled to sit up and then shuffled off to the bathroom.

Sam smiled to himself. He glanced over at Dean, who seemed to be sleeping fitfully. He stood up and leaned over to remove the now soaking washcloth from Dean's neck and heard his breathing start to pick up pace. He laid a hand on Dean's arm and waited.

_"What do you mean that you joined up? You're going to get killed over there you know."_

_"I know what I'm doing. It's the right thing for me- _for us_- right now. After I get back, I'll go back to school and get a decent job for us, okay? I'll be back in a year. You'll be fine. You can stay with my sister and work at the diner. Just think good thoughts, Annie. You'll just have to have some patience."_

_She scowled and stormed off into the other room. Dean slammed the glass he had been washing into the sink and watched it shatter, cutting his hand. _It had to be this way. It was the only way that he'd be able to save up enough money to support the two of them. _ He knew that she didn't think about him with the same passion that he had about her, but she would grow to love him. _She'll see_. He wrapped a towel around his hand and pulled it tight, waiting for the bleeding to stop._

_He walked over towards the bathroom and overheard her on the phone in the bedroom. "What are you talking about? Why would you want to know where I am after all this time?...You didn't seem all that concerned for the last five years!...Fine. I'm in Houston. I'm living with a friend of mine...Yes, I guess we can meet..."_

_Dean found himself in his car with his cell phone perched between his shoulder and ear. "Dean? Where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you for three days! How dare you leave me like this?" There was a pause when he heard_ _muffled crying. "You're a bastard! You hear me? Don't ever come back here!" The sound of the phone slamming down reverberated in his ear._

_Dean played Cassie's voicemail a hundred times over the next month. He was driving in his car to meet his Dad in Houston. Some job, something to do with a haunting or something. He really didn't give a shit. It was something to keep his mind off...everything. He felt as though his heart had been ripped out and replaced with dead air. He couldn't bear to think about Cassie and the baby that never was. He needed to work. He pushed his foot down on the gas and drove into the setting sun. _

Dean woke up in a sweat. Sam was looking at him intently. "Dude, what's your problem?

"What? You were having a nightmare, I think. I was about to wake you." Sam sat up straighter in response to Dean's inquiry.

"I wasn't having a nightmare. I was sleeping until your staring at me woke my ass up. Now, back off, I'm fine." Dean closed his eyes again to show Sam he wanted to go back to sleep. That was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment, but he couldn't stomach any of Sam's hovering.

Sam didn't respond, but walked around Dean's bed to the cot in the corner that wasn't opened yet. He unfolded it in silence, grimaced at the god-awful screech it let out and sat down on it. Dean cracked his eyes back open in the dim light as Sam crawled into the bed that was a little bit too short for him and faced the wall. Max came out of the bathroom and shut the light off. She slid into the bed across from Dean and stared right at him.

"Dean, I can't see anything, but you can cut the tension in the room with a knife. What did you say to him?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. Sam?"

"Nothing." Sam said back. Dean flashed back on a similar conversation that happened when they were children and their father wanted them to stop fighting.

"Okay then, I guess there're no problems. I'm glad we cleared that up. Now you boys go to sleep and we'll talk about it in the morning." Max said in a very parental tone.

Dean smiled in the dark and closed his eyes again.

Sam woke with a start and didn't know why. He turned on the impossibly thin mattress and managed to only poke himself with one spring in the center of his back. Then, he heard something. He could have sworn that it was someone crying. Maybe things had just caught up with Max and she had to let it out. He continued to listen. He thought he also heard someone whispering. _Was Dean awake too?_ He unfurled himself from his cot and quietly walked over to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and closed the door almost all the way. He wanted enough light to see, but not disturb everyone in case he was just hearing things.

He walked over to Max's bed and crouched down next to her face. Her eyes were closed and she was sleeping soundly. He was about to stand up and get back into bed when he heard the whispering again. He swiveled on the balls of his feet until he was looking out into the room between the two beds.

"_I couldn't save her_." The whisper seemed to surround him. He couldn't pinpoint its origin.

"What?" Sam answered, standing up and looking around the darkened room.

"_She's in trouble. I couldn't save her_." A little more insistent this time.

"Who? Save who?"

"_Annie. She's in trouble. I couldn't save her_."

He swiveled again until he was facing Dean. The meager light from the bathroom fell in a stripe on Dean's face. Sam squinted in the near-darkness to see Dean's lips were moving. Dean's eyes were closed, but his face was wet. _What the hell was going on?_

He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him as he realized that Max must have woken up and was greeted with the back of his head in her view. "Sam? What's going on?" She sounded a little panicked.

"Something's wrong with Dean. He's talking in his sleep." Sam swiveled back to face her and placed a hand on her exposed arm.

"He had a head injury. Maybe you should wake him up and see if he's okay." She started to sit up.

"_Annie's in trouble. I couldn't save her_." Sam leaned in very close to Dean and confirmed that Dean _was _actually speaking. Dean's warm breath ghosted on Sam's cheek with every word.

"Oh, my God." Max's words were like ice.

"What? Who's Annie?" Sam's voice whispered harshly back to her.

"That's _me_. Only one person used to call me that. It's my middle name." She sagged at the admission. "Sam, wake him up now. I need to know what he's talking about." She scrambled out of bed faster than Sam thought she was capable of doing. She turned on the lights and the both of them stared at Dean.

Tears were still leaking out of the corners of his closed eyes. He lay perfectly still, Sam wasn't even sure that he was breathing. "Annie, get out! They're coming for you!" Dean screamed and opened his eyes. He turned slowly to face the others who were frozen in shock. He didn't seem to be looking at them, but at something beyond them.

"_Christo!_" Sam choked out.

Dean sat up in a rush. "Holy _shit_, Sam! You scared the crap out of me! Why are you both sitting here staring at me for? Is it time for my meds or something?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: (A/N: Same warnings as previous chapters: foul language, potentially adult/disturbing situations and possible spoilers for Seasons 1 and 2)**

"_What_? What is the matter with you two chuckleheads?" Dean said a little too loudly. He heard his own voice reverberate in his ears. Man, he felt like _shit_. Like shit that was run over and shot a few times for good measure. He slipped down in the bed a little more until he was now only-semi upright.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked a little too slowly, like he was asking a child.

"Sammy, I have a concussion, not brain damage. I can understand you if you speak at normal speed. _Comprendé_?" He closed his eyes as the distinct crawl of nausea was making its way towards his throat. He opened his eyes again when he heard no response from the duo. "Like shit, okay? What do you expect?"

"Do you feel overly tired or cold?"

"What the fuck, Sam? Just tell me what's got your panties in a twist." Dean started to snark and glanced at Max. Her face was drawn and had a gray twinge to it. The desire to joke drained out of him as fast as the color had left Max's face. He turned back to glare at Sam. "Dude, I mean it. What happened?"

"Uh, I think you were possessed." With that, Dean took off running to the bathroom. He was barely able to open the toilet seat before he lost the meager contents of his stomach. He sat for a while on the grungy floor thinking about what he thought he heard Sam say_. That's impossible_. _He'd know, wouldn't he_? He'd know if he himself were possessed. Suddenly, he felt drained, utterly exhausted. And filthy, like he'd never be clean again.

A few minutes passed and he heard a gentle knocking on the door. "Dean? You okay?"

"Just leave me alone. I mean it." Dean growled.

"Dean?"

"Sam. Get...the...hell...away...from...me." He ground out and shoved his foot against the door to prevent Sam from pushing it in.

"Dean, let me explain, okay? It's not like Dad or Meg. It wasn't a demon. I think it was someone who used to know Max. Just a regular guy." Sam pleaded from the other side of the door. "C'mon, let me help you."

"No." He grumbled and closed his eyes. He swallowed slowly and prayed he wouldn't have to hurl again. He was pretty much as bashed up as he could handle right now. _Goddamnit. Possessed?_ He regretted throwing up because his own method of pain relief was now circulating the city's plumbing system instead of his own. He'd definitely have to take a couple more pills before he'd ever be able to go back to sleep.

Sam decided to leave Dean alone for a little to let him process. He knew that pushing Dean right now would be a big mistake. He pulled his Dad's journal out of his duffel and proceeded to find the section on possession and ghosts.

Sam realized that it wasn't so much possession as a channeling, sort of. Dean was acting as a temporary vessel, a medium- an unwilling one and probably unknowing- but not completely overtaken by the spirit. That made him feel a little bit better about the whole shitty situation. Max still had the _deer-in-the-headlights_ look and he made a concerted effort to calm her down and assure her that he would explain everything and it would be okay. She had slipped into a doze as Sam continued to search for information on the internet as he waited for Dean to come out of the bathroom. About a half an hour later, after Sam was convinced that Dean had either drowned or fallen asleep and was about to break the door down if necessary, Dean dragged himself back to his bed.

Sam stood up and was about to walk over when he heard Dean speak really low. "No, Sam. I don't want to hear it right now. Just leave me alone."

"But, Dean."

"But nothing, Sam. I'm going back to sleep. I don't want to hear anything out of you for many, many hours."

"Okay, I'll keep watch."

"You do that." Dean pulled the comforter over his head and closed his eyes. He prayed for unconsciousness.

_"She actually answered the phone... Yes, she's in Houston...Yes, she's coming to meet us...I know... I'll call you when it's done, okay?" A man hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of frustration at the conversation he just ended. He continued to place objects for which he seemed to have great reverence into a black duffel bag, murmuring under his breath the entire time. _

_The man sat at an outside table at a café downtown. His eyes continually scanned the area until they fell on the person he was waiting for. Annie walked up and sat down at the table, arms crossed. "What do you want?" She asked, venom in her words._

_"I wanted to see you. We haven't talked in..a long time." His smile did not quite meet his eyes._

_"Ever since Mom died, all I've gotten from you are vague postcards and short phone calls. Never knowing where you were. That you didn't care enough to come and get me. I can't forgive you for that." She looked at the table. "What makes today different? I haven't seen you in five years."_

_"I realize how much I've hurt you, but I want to try and make amends. You remind me so much of your mother. I'm sure her family has poisoned you against me." He stopped and looked at her face. He noted that her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. He knew that he was starting to chip away at her defenses and kept going. "I want to know what you've been doing, what you've accomplished, what you want to do, and what I can do to help." He did his best to look remorseful. "You and your mom possessed something special, something that I didn't want to ruin. That's why I left- to protect you." _

_"I couldn't protect you, Cassie. I couldn't stop what happened. I'm sorry for my part in it. Maybe if I'd been around more... Look, I'm sorry to leave all this in a message, but I have to go. I probably won't be back for awhile. Just know that I'm thinking about you and stay safe." Dean closed his cell phone quickly before his voice broke again. His eyes burned with frustration at not being able to help her or to have been able to stop everything that happened. He knew that she'd probably never forgive him, but maybe that was what he deserved. He walked out of the gas station restroom to join his father at the car before they went on the next job. He decided that he wouldn't think about this again, this chapter in his life was permanently closed. He had to keep his mind on the now._

_"C'mon, son, let's go." His Dad's voice fit him like his leather coat, familiar and made him feel like all was right in the world. _

_"You know you have to save her, right?" John Winchester said as he started the engine to the Impala, eyes never leaving the windshield._

_"Save who?" Dean asked as he fiddled with the radio until he found a station he liked._

_"Annie."_

Dean shot up in bed and immediately swore against the sharp slice of pain that swept across his chest. His panted as he willed the pain to die down, even a little bit, so he could breathe again. The room was dark and he was alone. A white piece of paper sat next to his head on the nightstand. "Went to get food. Be back in twenty minutes. Call if you need anything." in Sam's scrunched handwriting.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Dean asked the air, mostly out of the feeling of helplessness. That creepy feeling crept up his spine and he knew that the spirit or _whatever the hell it was_ was in the room with him. He picked up the pen on the nightstand and held his hand over the paper. To his surprise, his hand started moving without him causing it. Objectively, he knew it was called "automatic handwriting", but as someone who was actually experiencing it- he was totally and completely freaked out.

"_Saveher_," was all that showed up in very shaky handwriting. He glanced at it and immediately crunched it up in a ball and threw it at the door. "Leave me the hell alone. Do you hear me? I did not give you permission to use me. Go away and bother someone else!" He threw the pen across the room for good measure just as Sam was opening the door.

"Dean? Who are you yelling at? Are you okay?" He was about to pull out a vial of holy water from his pocket as he searched for Dean in the room.

"I'm me, if that's what you're worried about. That _thing_ tried to communicate. I told it to stop fucking with me and go mess with someone else!" He swept all the stuff that was on the nightstand onto the floor in a fit of exasperation. He sat down on the bed a little bit too hard and winced at the pain the arced through his midsection.

Max sat next to him and put one hand on his shoulder and took the other and slid it into his hand. "Dean, I'm sorry if all of this is my fault. Why don't you eat something?" Dean looked at Sam who was nodding his head. He let Max help him get propped up at the head of the bed and Sam pull out a sandwich from the brown bag he brought back. Dean was actually surprised when his stomach growled in response.

"Max, let me ask you something first. When was the last time you saw your father?" Dean asked while taking a large bite from his sandwich.

"About a year ago, I guess, why?" She wasn't really paying attention to his question as she set out her lunch.

"He was up to something when you met at that restaurant last year. Something not good." Dean continued chewing as he waited for her response.

"What? What are you talking about? How did you know about that?" She leaned away from him unconsciously, her lunch now forgotten.

"Your friend seems to like making me watch his little movies of his life. Parts with him in it and parts with you." He conveniently left out all the parts with him and Cassie, not something he wanted to share with the class.

That caught Sam's attention. _What the hell was going on with Dean?_ Maybe the concussion was worse than he had thought. Dean sounded crazy. _Like your visions don't sound crazy?_ He nodded to himself and waited for Dean to continue.

"Dean, I don't know what you're getting at, but this sounds crazy, okay? You're really starting to freak me out. How did you know about my dad? About my nickname?" Max's voice was getting a little high, as she tried to control her emotions over this new revelation.

"Like I said, your _friend_ shows me little movies. Things that I think really happened." He turned his head to look at Sam. "What?"

"You know what. You sound like you're starting to believe that the spirit isn't malevolent, but has something he needs to share with us."

"You said it, not me. I'd be happy if he'd just leave me alone already." He finished his sandwich, with his nonchalant look on his face, covering the fact he was scared shitless about being this out of control. "What do we have to do to get this out of me?"

"I don't think it's _in_ you, _per se_. I think that he visits you and uses your body to try to communicate. Like I tried to tell you before, it's not a classic possession. It's more of a _borrowing_." Sam was more than a little relieved that Dean seemed to be taking this pretty well_. Not usually a good sign_, he reflected.

"Enough with the how, can we discuss the _why_?" Max was getting a little exasperated with the conversations' direction.

"Dean? Any ideas? Anything like this ever come up when you were working with Dad?"

"Not any more than the mediums we would run into who were always trying to horn in on our cases. Oh, I always thoughts they were quacks." Dean shook his head, which was beginning to ache from all this activity. He didn't want to believe this shit. He wanted things to go back the way they were before the demon caught up with them, before Dad... "Look, I need some air. I'll be back in a few." Dean really didn't wait for an answer and he couldn't make the exit he would've liked with his injuries. Dean could tell Sam was trying very hard not to study him as he took three times as long to get his damn jacket on and grab his pack of smokes from the dresser. Dean ignored Max's silent pleas for more information as he practically limped outside.

_Goddamnit!_ He was sick of the constant analysis from the two of them. Now he knew what it was like to be a side-show freak. _Under a freaking microscope_. He lit a cigarette and gingerly lowered himself to sit on the curb near his car. He must've drifted off for a second because the next thing he knew he felt the tingly buzzing in the back of his head. He knew now that the spirit was trying to get his attention again. "Leave me alone already!" He flicked the cigarette butt as far as he could into the parking lot. He stood up and walked over to his car. He pulled out his keys and opened the trunk of the car. He flipped open the false bottom to reveal his extensive weapons collection. He ran his hands over several of the larger guns and stopped on the Glock, gleaming in the light of the rising sun. He smiled and pulled it from its resting place.

**(Thanks to all of you for your patience. Feedback is always welcome!)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Summary:

Dean seems to be going around in circles- not being able to solve the problem and not making any progress. Sam takes matters into his own hands and contacts an old friend.

**Chapter 5: (A/N: Thanks for your patience! I know this is a long time coming. Feedback appreciated.)**

Sam and Max stayed in the hotel room a few minutes more before looking at each other and silently agreeing that getting out of this room would be a good idea. Sam was following Max to the door when he heard the unmistakable growl of the Impala coming to life. _What the hell?_ He pulled the hotel door open just in time to see the taillights of the car pull out of the parking lot, leaving a trail of dust.

"Dean!" Sam yelled after him uselessly.

"Where did he go?" Max asked, just as surprised to having been left standing in the parking lot.

"I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out!" Sam's face twisted with frustration as he pulled out his cell phone. He should have watched Dean more closely. The cold hard feeling in his stomach told him that something bad was going on.

"Look, I usually don't do this, but we'll have to steal a car. I don't want to lose Dean. He's in no shape to be out there by himself." Sam pushed the speed dial on his phone, knowing full well that it would go to voicemail.

"He was in good enough shape to take off without us, don't you think?" She was pissed. _They had promised to help her, didn't they? _

_Damn, it felt good to get out here!_ _Lock and load!_ He felt the cold steel of his weapon still lodged in the small of his back and he drove away. _She'd be fine for a little while. He'd call Annie when he got somewhere good to stop. She'd be worried about him. He didn't like leaving her like that, but he knew that if he stayed, he would say something stupid and she'd stay mad at him for a week. _

_He had purposely asked her about her father and she had mentioned that she met him for lunch the previous week. That he was back in town and was trying to make up for abandoning her. Total bullshit! It wasn't too hard to find him after she said he was going to work for the only steel company in the area. _

He got onto the highway and headed to Huntsville, TX, where Annie had grown up. He would make that bastard pay for what he did to her.

"Think, where would John go?" Sam asked as his long legs propelled him quickly towards the green 4x4 he had his eye on. Should have enough power and speed to catch up with Dean. There wasn't much to pick from in the lot at this crappy hotel. He knew that Max was struggling to keep up with him, but they didn't have much time. He was a little irritated over the fact that she wasn't acting very grateful for their help. _Focus, Sam!_ His head snapped sideways as he heard Dean's voice in his head. _Dean wouldn't get distracted. _ _Keep to the mission_, he would say. Sam's eyes surveilled the area and noted that no one seemed to be around. He thanked whoever was listening over the fact that the car door was unlocked. He was already fiddling with the ignition wires by the time that Max made it to the car. "Max, get in and keep an eye out."

She slid into the care as gracefully as she could in her condition. She was quiet as Sam managed to get the car going. He slid into the driver's seat and shifted the car into reverse. "Put on your seatbelt!" He yelled as he peeled out of the parking lot and towards the direction he had last seen the Impala heading.

He felt pretty relaxed as he took a drag from his third cigarette, cruising towards Huntsville. Once he had decided what to do, he felt pretty damned good. _Sure, Annie'd be pissed_. She was always mad at him for something. A sign passed on the right, "Huntsville, 60 miles." He flicked the cigarette butt out the window and pushed in the lighter to get hot again. Annie had told him how he had abandoned her as a child. How he showed up out of nowhere and wanted to be back in her life. He just _knew _something hinky was going on with this guy. Something bad and that had to do with Annie. He wouldn't let anything happen to her.

It seemed to only take a few minutes for him to reach Huntsville. It was funny, he really couldn't remember driving there until he saw the sign, _Huntsville, 2 miles_. He pulled into the nearest diner parking lot and sidled up to the phone booth. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door with a satisfying creak and bang. He rubbed his forehead as his head pounded with a relentless headache. He'd take something later, he had a job to do right now. He pulled open the rusty door of the booth and grabbed the phone book. It had the year 1999 on it, but he was sure that the Huntsville Steel plant would be in there.

He pulled into the parking lot and noticed that it seemed rather empty for the time of day. He slid out of the car and walked over the rusty gate that was partially closed over the main entrance. He looked through the fence. The place looked deserted. _Annie'd be pissed_. His head fell back and he pulled in a huge breath of air. He felt like he hadn't breathed in ages. He coughed and fell to his knees, his chest still spasming in white hot bursts from the effort. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes in an effort to relieve the burning sensation.

Dean looked around in horror, not sure how he had gotten there and even where the hell he was. He felt around in his jacket pockets until his fingers caught upon his cell phone. He flipped it open, "Missed calls- 10". He just knew they were all from Sam. He sat all the way down on the dusty ground and looked up at the late-afternoon sun, lazily sliding towards the horizon. He couldn't get up enough energy to call Sam. He just sat there, leaning up against the fence, waiting.

"Huntsvillle- what's in Huntsville?" Sam asked impatiently as he almost stood on the accelerator of the old truck they had stolen to get it to _move_. He couldn't spare a look at Max, he kept his eyes peeled on the road looking for any sign of Dean. He had visions of the Impala crashed in a ditch somewhere, with Dean sprawled on the ground bleeding, dead. He blinked again and forced himself to back to the present. _Dean was fine, he had to be_.

"Um, my dad worked in Huntsville, about a year ago, I think. At the steel mill. On Route 47." She blurted out after a few minutes.

"Can you find it?" Sam asked, afraid to let a little hope into his thoughts.

"I think so. Turn at the next right, there's a back road."

He must've fallen asleep, because when he next realized, darkness had begun to fall and he shivered into his jacket. He also had stiffened up in the interim and it was exceedingly difficult to even stand up. Dean used the fence as a ladder and pulled himself shakily to his feet. The car could've been three miles away in the shape that he was in. He leaned back against the fence and willed his body to stay upright. He looked up as he saw a pair of headlights bobbing their way over the dirt road to get to him. He knew it was Sam. He sighed in relief.

Sam's eyes were blurry by the time they saw the signs for the steel mill in his efforts to search for Dean. His head was pounding a staccato beat in tune to his heartbeat and wished that all of this was over. The headlights caught the chrome of the Impala's bumper and Sam scanned desperately for Dean. He stopped the car with a jolt and scrambled out and into the fast approaching evening. Dean was staring off into the distance and seemed to rouse a little bit at Sam's approach.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam rushed over to the man who looked only a little bit on this side of death. He half-carried his brother back over the Impala and sat him down. "Dean?" His brother's eyes swam lazily over to meet Sam's.

"Yup, I'm here. You here, Sammy?" Dean drawled, his eyes at half-mast. It was funny, but when Dean was drunk or tired, he seemed to pick up a bit of a southern twang. Sam remembered their Dad had done it too, mostly when he was drunk.

"Yes, I'm here. We're going to get you home now, okay? Can you lay down here in the back seat?" He pulled Dean up and guided him into the back seat. Dean complied too easily. "I'll be right back."

Sam ran back over the truck and gently helped Max out. "Max, I'm going to wipe down the cab so we can ditch the truck. We'll take the Impala back. We won't be able to stay at the hotel anymore. I'll drop you and Dean off somewhere close and I'll have to go back and get our stuff. You'll have to keep watch over him, okay?" She nodded at the request, the look of fear that didn't quite leave her eyes.

Sam's focus shifted from finding Dean to keeping Dean. He'd handcuff Dean to the steering wheel if he had to. Max still had the shell-shocked look on her face when she climbed into the passenger seat, next to Sam. "Max, we'll be fine. It's okay now. We have Dean." He brushed her hand with his before pulling the car out of the parking lot and into the night. Dean didn't stir in the back and Max was quiet, her eyes closed. He almost could laugh at this situation if it wasn't so dire. Here he was driving around with a very pregnant woman with an over-protective ghost and a brother who kept flirting with death and came back a little bit changed and who is now playing host to said ghost. And Sam's the sane one- he who receives visions when a certain yellow-eyed demon was involved_. How did that happen?_

After midnight, Sam had managed to get all of their stuff out of the hotel room without being spotted and was just finishing packing it into the trunk and the footwell behind Max. Dean was still asleep, but Max stirred when Sam slammed the door after getting into the driver's seat for the third time that night. Dean's face was pale and a little sweaty, but he seemed to be breathing okay. It was strange to not see him moving. Sam sighed and started driving towards downtown Huntsville and away from here.

_A young girl slept soundly on a bed in a typical girl's bedroom- posters on the walls, dolls and toys strewn around the floor. It was dark and the atmosphere seemed heavy- like 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning. There was some watery light filtering in from a street lamp. She seemed to be at peace. Two adults walked carefully in the room and wiped something dark on her forehead with a thumb and mumbled something that only they could hear. "Bless you for your sacrifice. You will be rewarded in heaven." one of the adults said to the other in a whisper, stroking her arm as they were leaving the room. The other only nodded._

_Sitting on a park bench, Dean observed so many families with their children laughing and playing in the sandbox and on the playground. His eyes stopped on Cassie, who was walking through the park on her way to something. She was distracted on her cell phone and she walked right past him. He was about to stand up and stop her, but he didn't move. He was dead sure that she didn't want to see him. He'd been gone almost a year now. It wasn't hard to imagine that any one of these kids could've been his- theirs. He blinked._

_"Hush, Annie. You be Mama's good little girl. Do what your aunties tell you. I have to go away now. I love you." She smiled and was gone. _

_"You leave her alone! Helen's gone. She told us she wanted Annie to stay with us. Not you. You don't even have a steady job or even a place to stay. That's no life for a little girl! If you try and take her, you'll be sorry." Cassie's father stumbled out of the house and weaved drunkenly towards his car. Maybe it was for the best. _

_"John, don't you dare go! You're going to leave me in this shithole?" Annie screamed from the living room of their apartment out the window as he walked out towards the bus stop._

_"I have to go. I love you." John left carrying his rusack and bus ticket to Ft. Worth._

_"What the hell are they doing?" Sam's voice was raspy and warm in Dean's ear as they observed the carnage. The glint of a knife in the firelight fueled Dean into action. There were so many he couldn't save; they were beyond saving. Their poor kids. There was only one left. He had to save her, she was the key._

Dean woke in a panic and forced himself to drag in one long breath to calm down. _Goddamnit_, he felt awful. He hadn't felt this crappy since he woke up from his run-in with the rawhead and the tazer. He didn't think that was possible without dying at the end of it. His brain felt like a wrung out sponge and he thought it wasn't a real good idea to be conscious. Of course, Mr. Mother Hen and his sixth sense knew Dean was awake.

"Dean? You awake?"

"You know I am or you wouldn't be asking. What do you want?" Dean grumbled into his arm that was flung over his eyes, turned over, and promptly fell into the floorboards. _Holy hell, that hurt!_

"I wanted to let you know that we're in the car, so don't roll over. Well, too late for that." Dean could hear the relief in Sam's voice.

"Ha, ha. So funny. Where are we?" He ground out between clenched teeth. The burning pain still radiated from his chest, but he ignored it and dragged himself back onto the seat.

"On the way to downtown Huntsville. Our friendly ghost brought you here and Max remembered that it had something to do with her father. I thought we should investigate. But first, we're going to crash. It's close to three in the morning and I'll need matchsticks to keep my eyes open if I don't get some sleep."

"Max okay?"

"Yeah, she's asleep, so keep it down. We'll stop in a few minutes and we'll talk."

"Yay, talk. Exactly what I wanted to do." Dean mumbled, mostly to himself.

He watched Sam and Max sleep from his dusty threadbare chair. They had crashed in another crappy hotel, which was just fine with him. He felt as if he would never sleep again. He really didn't want to live through those _visions_ or whatever the hell they were again. He crossed his arms gingerly and propped his feet on the edge of Sam's bed, so he'd know if Sam needed him or anything. His mind was on a continuous loop of all the images he had seen when he was asleep or when that guy was _around_. His mind flashed on putting a ring of salt around his chair, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He didn't have much he could do against this unwanted spirit. He hoped that imagining walls around his mind would keep that guy out and it made him feel a little better. Cassie's face appeared in his thoughts again. He shook his head to dispel it, reliving that past did them no good now. He closed his eyes and purposely thought of nothing, blackness. He decided to quit thinking and grabbed his coat. He lit a cigarette in the parking lot and observed his surroundings. His car was okay, parked just in front of their motel room, under a street lamp. A short ring shook him out of his thoughts. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and noticed that he had a text message.

"_Need to keep safe. the key_." There was no number.

He quickly typed back. "Who?" He knew who, this was a conversation that he'd had several times already.

"_Annie and my son_." _Great_. Text messaging from the great beyond. A new low for Dean Winchester.

"John?" He texted back. At least he was having a dialog instead of being taken over. But this was taking too long. "John?" He asked again, out loud this time. He dropped the cigarette he was holding on the ground. A thin plume of smoke curled up to his nostrils.

"Dean?" Someone was shaking him, hard. "Why are you out here?"

"What?" Dean's eyes flew open as he jumped up and back into his car. His hand reached automatically to his waistband for his gun, which wasn't there. Sam's concerned face flowed into Dean's vision. Dean used the car to lean on as he straightened out into a standing position. He looked at the ground and saw the stub of a long dead cigarette burned out in front of him. "I, uh, needed some air."

"Some air, huh? You've been smoking like there's no tomorrow, Dean. You're not going to be able to get any air of you keep up like this." Sam immediately switched into nag mode. Dean just nodded as he knew there was no use in arguing. He followed Sam back into the motel room and made a beeline for the bathroom. He needed a few minutes alone to think.

Dean mulled over the one-way conversation cut short and wished he would've had more of a chance to speak with John directly. He hated all this lost time and the fact that he was doing things he couldn't remember or had any control over. He debated telling Sam about this experience and decided against it. He didn't want to give Sam any more reason not to trust him. He checked his phone and there was no record of a phone call or a text message in his inbox. He began thinking about Max again. John seemed very concerned about her and the baby. He knew the kid was his. Dean nodded to himself. _That was good at least_. He would tell Max the next chance he got. John seemed to know more about Max's situation than they did and Dean wondered if she was withholding information from them. In fact, he was sure that she was. It was time to turn the tables and take back control of his life.

He pushed the door open a little harder than he wanted and glanced into the room. Sam had his hand on Max's belly and had a big smile on his face. A smile that Dean hadn't seen in a long time. "Dean. Come here, the baby has the hiccups."

Dean walked over with the intention of talking to Sam.

"Here." Max placed Dean's hand on the side of her belly. Sam couldn't prevent the small smile that crept across his face when Dean got a faraway look on his face and a small smile himself. Sam stepped back to give them some room.

Dean leaned in and spoke a little above a whisper. "_I knew about the baby. Your father wrote to me to tell me. I tried to call you, but your aunts wouldn't give me your new phone number. Every letter I sent you came back. I couldn't find you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Or our son_." Dean looked right into her eyes. She sat back but didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"John?" She whispered back, not quite believing what she had heard. Her eyes darted over to Sam, but he looked equally as surprised.

All the color drained out of Dean's face as he fell towards the opposite bed. "Oh, shit." He sat down hard, his energy drained.

Sam blew up. "That's it! We need to do something. We need to get control of this!" He strode over to the door, ripped it open and slammed it shut behind him.

Max and Dean just looked at each other. "Sorry, I hope that didn't scare you. I can't control when he shows up. He loves you very much. And he knows the baby's his."

"I guess that's good, right?"

"Yes, that's good." Dean took her hand and patted it, hoping that he was helping her. Sam was better at the comforting stuff. He fervently hoped that she wouldn't ask about what John meant. Truth be told, he had no idea either, except that he and Sam needed to get this resolved and her safe ASAP. His head was killing him and he swore that every time John made a visit he sapped all of Dean's reserves. He felt as if he could just sleep forever.

"Missouri? Yeah, hi, it's Sam...Yes, I know it's been awhile. I'm sorry we haven't... Yes, it's Dean. Something's haunting him or something. He's become a medium to this pushy ghost...I know, we didn't do it on purpose...No, no chasing demons or anything lately...Of course, we know what precautions...No, nothing. We didn't do anything...Except..except there's this girl..." Sam spent the next twenty minutes telling Missouri everything that had transpired up to that point since they had found Max.

When Sam returned to the room, he found Dean asleep slumped over onto Max's lap. She had her hand on his head, rubbing gently. She looked up at Sam with moisture in her eyes. "No matter what, Sam, you both gave me a great gift. Now I know what's really out there. And I know that John's looking out for us and he knows about the baby. No matter what happens after this, I know that."

Sam grinned back at her and then let the smile fade. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you had to find out what was really out there. Dean told me that he regretted that above all things for me. He wanted me to have a normal childhood and he tried the absolute best he could. If we can help you find your normal life, that's all we want. I'm sure Dean would agree."

"Thanks, Sam. What were you doing outside, if you don't mind my asking?" She asked cautiously.

"I called a friend of ours who has experience in what Dean's going through and she gave me some _suggestions_."

"Such as?"

"We have a séance to perform."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Chapter Summary: Gone, baby, gone.

Sam left Max and Dean at the hotel room and drove down to the Dollar Mart he had seen when they had come in the other night. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. He purchased white candles, a new canister of salt, and a new lighter. He grabbed a bible, a vial of holy water, and his father's journal from the trunk of the car before coming back into the room. Max smiled at him when he came back, but continued to stroke Dean's head as he slept. Sam felt a slight pang of guilt that Dean was never comforted, from him or their Dad, even when he was hurt. Their Dad always saw that as weak.

"Hasn't moved a bit." She whispered, answering the question that Sam was about to ask. He quietly dragged the small table and chair near the bottom edges of the two beds. Everyone should be able to sit comfortably around the table. He placed the candles, the bible, and the canister of salt in the center of the table. He would put down a line of salt around them after they got started to ensure no unwanted spirits made a visit. He normally would leave this kind of thing to people like Missouri to conduct. His father had been successful a few times to getting spirits to leave a haunted location this way, but it was spotty. The spirit in question could choose to ignore the participants and there was always the risk that the séance would inadvertently invite other spirits or demons to the party.

Sam had wanted to wait until nightfall. Max had wiggled out from under Dean and had left the room to get some sodas from the machine in the hall a few moments before. He knew that she couldn't be thriving under all this pressure. It wasn't good for Dean either. Dean woke with a start around 7 pm, arms flailing. He grunted at the pain, but said nothing to Sam. Dean's eyes darted to the table and noted what was there. "We having a séance, Sammy?" he drawled out as he noticed Sam perched on a chair, his chin in his chest, and asleep.

"Hmm?" His head shot up. "Yeah, you could say that. You up for it?"

"Not really, but we're running out of time. I'm sick of playing meat puppet to some ghostie and getting the crap kicked out of me. Bring it on." His mouth closed and he eyes surveilled the room. "Where's Max?"

"She went out to get some sodas from the machine down the hall." A flicker of worry passed over his face. "It's been a few minutes." He actually didn't have any idea of ho long it had been.

Before Sam could finish his sentence, Dean leapt off the bed and was out the door, all injuries seemingly forgotten. Sam raced after him after grabbing his gun off the top of the TV.

Dean ran up and down the hallways, searching for Max. _She was gone. Oh God, she was gone_! Dean stopped short and Sam practically crashed into him. "Do you see her?"

"She's gone." Dean replied in a flat voice.

"God, Dean, I'm sorry. She hadn't been out of the room in days. She had cabin fever something fierce. I shouldn't have let her out of my sight." Sam began to ramble in response to Dean's silence. Sam's stomach sank at his realization that he had let her get taken or whatever she was.

"They're going to kill her and her baby."

"Dean?" Sam cocked his head at Dean's statement.

"They need her. She's the key."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Summary:

Max has been taken and Sam and Dean are on her trail. Will they find her before it's too late?

**Chapter 7:**

Sam was able to wrestle Dean back to their room, pretending that he was drunk to the few onlookers who popped their heads into the hallway as they passed. Dean was slumped over and shuffled like an old man. Sam heaved him onto the bed and lit the candles. "Dean, I know you're not going to like this, but I need to talk to John Watson. Maybe he knows what happened to Max. Who did you mean by 'they'?" Sam led Dean to the chair that was placed at the table and he sat on the edge of one of the beds. He grabbed both of Dean's hands and looked up into Dean's glassy stare. Sam was barely able to keep Dean upright, but knew that this may be the only way to find her.

Sam hadn't bothered with the salt lines, but used a handful of salt to douse himself and Dean, hoping that would be enough to protect them. "John, John Watson, I invoke you to speak with us! Show yourself!"

"_I told you, they need her_." Dean said in a low voice and let go of Sam's hands. He leaned towards the center of the table and grabbed the edges. "_Annie's in trouble_. _Why aren't you helping her?_"

Sam was scribbling every word he could make out onto a napkin that was left on the table. "Where is she? How can we help her?"

"_She's the key. To finish what they started_. _They need her_." Dean's eyes closed and he seemed to sag back into his chair. Before Sam could catch him, Dean fell forward and cracked his head on the table.

"Shit!" He yelled and sat up quickly as he rubbed his head. "Whoa, head rush. What happened?"

"You were telling me about why Max was grabbed. Do you remember anything?"

"This guy, Watson, had a strong feeling that her father was involved somehow in this. Watson thinks he knows why Max was taken. That's all." He started to get up. "I think we know what to do next, don't we?"

"_Find her father_." They answered in unison.

"You got it. Let's go." Dean started to lean over to grab his keys off the top of the TV set, but kept toppling forward. "Uggh." He stopped and grabbed the edge of the TV. "Vertigo, bad. Throwing up on shoes, also bad."

Sam grabbed his shoulders and guided him back to a sitting position on the bed. "Whenever you channel this guy, he takes some of your energy, you know, sometimes a lot . You have to be careful. Take it slow." Dean shot Sam a look, but Sam pretended not to notice. "Do you remember anything useful about Max's father that would help us find him?"

"We know that he may have had something to do with the steel mill in Huntsville. We could start there." Just talking to Sam took out Dean's all remaining will power to stay upright and he sagged down until he was laying flat on the rumpled bed. He was getting damned tired of feeling like a sack of shit and just about as useful too. He closed his eyes and tried to remember any details from his dreams of John's or Max's experience to see if there was anything else they could use.

A name popped into his head. Images _of a little girl. Other things that he couldn't quite get a hold of_. "I remember her mother's name was Helen."

Sam proceeded to run the most complicated Google search string ever known to man. The screen came up with all sorts of useless crap, but one link to an article in a Houston newspaper caught his attention. "_Local mother dies trying to save child from abduction_." It was dated April 17, 1990.

It listed several names including a child named Maxine and an absentee father. _Helen James_ was killed while trying to stop intruders from taking her child, her throat was slit. A small, obviously distraught child's face was featured along with the story. Sam quickly scanned the article to see if Max's father was mentioned. Near the bottom, "_The child's father, Charles James, was being located for questioning_." Sam ran that name through the search engine and pulled up a telephone listing in Huntsville. He wrote down the address.

"This gets more interesting by the second. C'mon, Dean, I have an address and a story to tell you." He dragged his sibling out to the car and helped him into the passenger seat. "You're the navigator." He told Dean and shoved a map at him. Dean shot him a scathing look, but took the map. Sam knew Dean probably wouldn't even be able to stay awake until they got out of the parking lot. Sam glanced over at his brother as he turned onto the highway. His eyes were open but had a very faraway look in them. "Dean, go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there."

Dean eyes fluttered closed and he was quiet the rest of the trip. Anxiety had crawled into Sam's stomach and was setting up camp as his mind wandered back to the last time he had seen Max. She had just gone out for a few moments. _Goddamn it_! He hit the steering wheel with his left hand in frustration and regretted it as soon as he had done it. His eyes darted back to Dean, who stirred but didn't wake up. The sun was coming up over the horizon as they finally pulled off the highway at the Huntsville exit. Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the grittiness that ground against his eyelids. He felt like he hadn't slept in a week.

Sam squinted against the rising sun in an effort to identify a place to stop and gather some information. A diner appeared on the right hand side of the road as he topped a hill. Dean appeared peaceful as Sam pulled the black car into the parking lot, tires crunching on some loose gravel.

_"I don't want anything to do with this shit, Helen. You don't let your family do anything to her, you hear me? When I get back from this job, I'm taking her the hell out of here! You choose between your own daughter and your crazy family."_ Charles slammed the door and shook Dean out of his slumber. Sam was walking back towards the car with several bags of food in his hands. Dean's head was pounding in tune with his heartbeat, but he ignored it.

Sam pulled open the door and was surprised that Dean was awake. He seemed to be almost in a coma when he left him only ten minutes before. Dean even tried to smile, but pain pulled at his eyes. Sam carefully kept his expression blank. "Hungry?"

"As a horse."

"I think the expression is 'I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.'" Sam corrected automatically, knowing full well that Dean could care less.

"Whatever." Dean grabbed one of the bags and tore it open. He pulled out one of the sandwiches and practically inhaled it. "Any information on our man?"

Sam pulled out a page from the phone book. "Yup, I got an address, he's not too far from here. We'll go when you're finished."

Dean popped the last morsel in his mouth, "I'm done. Let's go."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Summary:

Things start to come together and Dean makes some connections long overdue.

**Chapter 8:**

**Warning: Some strong language.**

Dean lit a match and stared at it. So much of their lives were shaped because of fire. He watched it burn until it reached his fingertips. He almost didn't even feel it. They were stopped at a gas station. He had stepped away from the car and towards the edge of the parking lot to smoke.

He felt numb most of time now, like he had slept on his arm funny. He kept waiting for the pins and needles, the pain, but it never came. They had found the address of Max's father. He was still in Huntsville, living in an apartment just outside of town. _Max._ She had counted on them to protect her and he couldn't even manage to stay coherent very long. _Fucking_ great protection he turned out to be. He snorted at that and took the last drag. He tossed the butt on the ground and rubbed it out with his boot. That damned buzzing was back, in the back of his head and down his neck. He _knew_ that Max's _boyfriend_ was trying to take control again. Damned if he was going to let him without a fight. A white hot poker of pain lanced through his brain as he attempted to cross the parking lot back to the car. He grabbed his head and staggered, but didn't fall. It passed and he blinked back the moisture that had gathered in his eyes. He shook his head and continued to the car. Sam's eyes met his as he was about to open the car door. He didn't feel his head bounce off the roof of the car as he went down.

"Dean!"

_"Omni patruus domini..." Someone was droning on in some Latin that he couldn't quite follow. It was dark. Someone was screaming near him. Someone was moaning and whimpering. He couldn't see anything. He realized that he wasn't tied down, that he could move around. All he could do was listen, the darkness stayed with him. He strained to make out any of the words, but couldn't. He tried to speak, to call out to the people in there with him, but he was voiceless. Little by little, his eyes seemed to adjust to the dark. There were many women there, some crying softly, some quiet, some seemingly asleep. His eyes landed on one person and he balked. It was _Annie_! He ran to her and tried to grab her, but he couldn't touch her. He turned his head as light flooded the room and he was temporarily blinded. Two hooded figures grabbed a woman. She screamed and kicked at them in an attempt to get away. One of them injected something into her arm. She fell limp and they dragged her out, shutting the door, and plunging the room once again into the darkness._

_He had to get out of there. To his surprise, he found himself in the hallway, just behind the two figures dragging the unconscious woman. He followed until they reached a larger, well-lit room. _

_The stench of blood was so overwhelming; he had to fight the urge to vomit. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he didn't have to smell it. He had enough of that in the war. He never, never wanted to smell that again. But he knew it wasn't over, that he somehow had to get Annie out of this. She would never survive. The baby wouldn't survive. _

_He had to get help. He screamed in frustration when he realized that no one could hear him, or even acknowledge that he was there. The scene changed and he found himself sitting in the back seat of the Impala, like when the Yellow-Eyed Demon had attacked them. He wasn't in pain this time; his mind was relatively clear. _

_There were two people in the front seat and he could only barely see the outlines of their heads. This must be a dream. Their dad was dead, he couldn't be in the front seat. He felt drawn to the driver and stretched a hand out to rest it on the shoulder of Sam. The driver turned to the passenger and he realized it wasn't Sam at all, he was looking at his own face! He sat back in shock and held up his own hand to see if it was his. _It wasn't

_He sat back in the seat for a moment, but then felt the pull again to touch the driver. He extended his hand, without thinking. The driver shuddered and leaned his head onto his hand, apparently reacting to his touch. The driver straightened up again and attempted to shake off the feeling. He shivered and cleared his throat. Sam turned his head and looked at the driver. "You okay?"_

_"You have to save her!" He yelled from the back seat, but no sound came._

_Dean laughed nervously at Sam's question. "Yeah, I felt like someone just walked on my grave."_

"Dean! Can you hear me?"

Dean dragged his eyes open, blinking against the light, tears leaking out of his eyes. Sam looked kind of fuzzy to him, but he could hear the fear in his voice. "Jeez, you scared the shit out of me. Are you okay? What happened?" The volume of Sam's voice was building with each word.

"Hmm." Dean could barely string two words together in his thoughts, let alone speak them.

"You collapsed in the parking lot last yesterday. You've been unconscious for 12 hours. I was just about to drag your ass to the emergency room." The edge of anxiety in his voice was beginning to dissipate.

"No, I'm okay." He attempted to haul himself to a sitting position in the bed. His head was spinning and he was desperately thirsty. This seemed to be a repeating pattern with him. Sam handed him a bottle of water and a couple of pills. He popped the pills into his mouth and drank the whole bottle without stopping. As he regained his breath, he scanned the room. Another crappy hotel room. "Where are we?"

"In Huntsville, we're not far. How do you feel?"

"Good enough. Let's go." He hoped to hell that Sam didn't notice his slight swaying when he stood up and that he would actually be able to remain vertical for any period of time. He was glad that Sam just directed him towards the passenger seat; he was in no condition to be driving. He was urgently trying to gather his strength for the meeting with her father. His head was buzzing again. _God, couldn't Watson give him a few minutes alone? What do you want? _He blinked his eyes to try and wash away the grittiness.

Sam was quiet, focused on the road and on Dean, who was unnaturally still. Dean was staring at his hands, which he was alternately making into fists and re-opening. Sam decided not to bother him, he was just content that Dean was conscious not in too much pain. He knew that Dean was really broken up about Max's disappearance, and so was he, but all this other shit was just too much. Sam really didn't know what to do. Missouri knew what was going on with Dean and Bobby to some extent, but Sam felt that all of this was lying squarely on his shoulders. _Was this what Dean felt like all the time?_ With all the demon stuff that they have dealt with and his visions- was Dean carrying all this worry, concern and guilt around with him all the time? Jeez, he felt drained just thinking about it. He shook his head and refocused on the street signs- they were almost there.

Sam pulled the car over and parked across the street from the small white house. The house was dark. Sam glanced at his watch- it was midnight. Dean's head was pounding and it was all he could do to keep his head up. He could barely open his eyes, even the streetlights were too bright. He felt a touch on his shoulder and his vision blazed white.

_Two men burst into the dark room with all the blood and screaming and all activity stopped dead. "How dare you disrupt the ritual! Kill them!" The men jumped behind whatever cover they could as several robed people pulled out large knives and moved towards them. Gunshots flashed and those hooded men fell clutching their legs, shoulders and other non-lethal locations. _

_ We don't kill _people_, Sam. That thought reverberated through his brain._

_The screaming began again, "Help me!" _

_"Save her!" echoed in his head. He realized that he was watching himself and Sam find Max and save her. That's where it had started for him and Sam, but not for Max, Watson, or any of the other victims. Watson had been with Max the whole time trying to help her._

_"Dean, I lost the baby." Cassie's face swam into view. _

_"You have to save her and our baby!" Max's voice, thick with fear, gurgled into his mind._

The streetlight slowly percolated back into his field of vision as he regained his faculties. _Was this what Sam went through with his vision shit? _Dean leaned forward into his hands, trying not to throw up at the residual tang of blood in his mouth. He opened the door and leaned out to spit. This guy Watson was trying to play on his sympathies about the baby that Max was carrying and the one that he had lost with Cassie. _Not cool._ He really didn't need any help to relive any of that hell. _I'm already trying to help her, what more do you want?_

His head shot up as a light clicked on in the house. Sam crept out of the car and slid up next to Dean, who was still hunched out the car door. "How do you want to play this?"

Ten minutes later both men stood at the front door of the house, fake ID's in hand. Sam took one step closer and knocked succinctly on the door.

It slowly opened to expose a middle-aged mousy man with thinning dark hair. "It's kind of late. What do you want?"

"Mr. Charles James? We're Detectives Wesson and Smith from the 23rd Precinct." Sam and Dean flashed their ID's quickly in practiced tandem. "We're actually here about your daughter, Maxine. Can we come in?"

"Yes, come in. You can call me Charlie." He stepped back to allow them to enter his home. "Is everything okay? Is she alright?" He did not hide his concern in his voice or mannerisms. Sam was surprised by the naked concern for his daughter. From everything that Dean had told him and that he had found out in his library search, he thought the man would have been less than concerned about Max. Dean scanned the interior of the house. It was spare, clean, and tidy. It kind of had the air of a hotel room, no real personality.

"Have you seen her? Are she and the baby okay?"

"You knew she was pregnant?" It was Dean's turn to be surprised. In all his discussions with Max, she had specifically said that she had not seen her father in a year. He had assumed that they were estranged at best.

"I knew. She and I were not on the best of terms, but we were trying to repair our relationship, you know? I actually haven't seen her in awhile, but we've been talking, you know? She told me about the baby around the time when she let me know her boyfriend had died in Iraq. We exchanged e-mails, voicemails, and quick conversations- small steps." He led them into the sitting area of the living room. He stood in front of a chair and motioned for them to sit on the couch. Dean sat down slowly, trying not to wince. "Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"Uh, no, thanks. We actually wanted to ask you a few questions. We have been tracking your daughter for some time, she had gotten into a little trouble a few weeks ago and we had some questions for her. Not her fault or anything, just wrong place, wrong time kind of thing," Sam said, trying to deflect any suspicion Charlie may have about his and Dean's intentions.

"Oh, okay. What can I tell you?"

"Can you tell us if she had any enemies? Anyone who may hold a grudge against her?" Sam asked quietly, knowing how the man would probably react to his questions.

"Why? Is she okay?" Charlie stood up as he raised his voice.

"As far as we know, she's fine. We were supposed to meet with her yesterday and she didn't show." _Well, not exactly true, but gave the man reason to answer their questions_. Dean slowly let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. _Goddamnit, that buzzing was back_. He stood and gently pushed Charlie's shoulder to get him to sit down again. He pulled out his pack of smokes, indicating that he was going to step outside for a smoke. Actually, he needed to get out of there before anything unexplained happened. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he glanced around the neighborhood in the darkness. He ignored the whispering he heard in his ears, the distant sounds of mortar fire that he had begun to associate with his ghost friend, and hoped to hell that Max was all right.

He smoked the cigarette down to his fingertips, counting on Sam to get to the heart of the matter before he came back. He was still waiting for the buzzing to subside, but it stayed there, chipping at his resolve and sapping his strength. "I know, alright! I'm trying to help her, so back the hell off!" He yelled into the night air. A dog barked in response. The buzzing faded and Dean smiled. _Finally, progress_.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

_**Chapter 9:**_

_"You did right bringing her here...how do you feel?" A deep voice asked in the darkness._

_"Fine, I guess. You sure took your time. I've been waiting for weeks, you know." Her wrists were throbbing from the rough rope that had bound them up until that point. "Were the ropes really necessary?"_

_"We had to make sure you weren't followed. Your new friends seem to be especially gifted in the arts of evasion and pursuit. You got more time to grow our baby a little longer anyway. So it all worked out now, didn't it?"_

_No, no, this wasn't going the way it was supposed to at all. Where are you?_

Dean woke with a start and smacked his head on the window. It was light out and he was still in his suit from the night before. He was alone. The Impala was parked in front of the motel and he assumed that Sam had decided to sleep in a bed. He flipped open his phone and noticed that Sam had left a text. "_Dude, come in when you wake up. Too heavy to carry. S_."

_Too heavy, my ass_. He glanced at the time and cursed under his breath when he saw that it was 11 am. His stomach rumbled as a second reminder of the late hour. He knocked on the door and pushed it open as Sam unlocked it. "Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty." Sam teased as he sat back down at his laptop. "I couldn't wake you and I wasn't able to drag you in here this morning." He had a half-empty cup of coffee and the remains of what was probably an egg and bagel sandwich. Dean's stomach growled again.

"Yeah, well, I was tired." Truth was he didn't even remember falling asleep on their way back from speaking with Max's father. He seemed to remember having a dream before he banged his head on the window, but it was hazy. All he could remember was a feeling of something _not right_. _What else was new?_ He pointed at the remains of Sam's breakfast. "Dude, nothing for me?"

"I figured you may be asleep for awhile and there was no reason to waste food. It would be cold mush by now anyway." He started to get out of his chair again. "Do you want me to grab something for you?"

"Nah, I can handle it. What are you working on?" He was making conversation as he removed the tie that was in the process of strangling him and the rest of the stupid suit. He felt like a corporate monkey in that thing. He stuffed it into the recesses of his bag and pulled out a relatively clean pair of jeans and a black tee shirt. He slipped his feet into his steel-toed boots and proceeded to tie them as he waited for Sam to fill him in. "Did you hear me?" He glanced up.

"What happened to your wrists?" Sam's face was white.

"What are you...?" Dean glanced down and noticed that they were red, raw, and showed signs of dried blood. "Huh." He ran his fingers over the ridges on his left wrist and then the right.

"Something you forgot to mention?" Sam said in a low voice.

"Uh, no, I don't think so. They're something I think I would have remembered." His mind flashed to his dream and recalled the short and strange conversation. _Someone else had been there, someone who didn't want to be there. They had wanted to know where he was. _Dean strode to the window and peeled back the curtain a little bit and chewed on his lip.

His silence prompted Sam to ask another question. "What? That look means you know something and you're trying to decide if you're going to tell me or not. So, spill. I'm not going to leave you alone until you do." _Way to try the infantile approach, Sammy_.

"I had a dream before I woke up in the parking lot. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear voices." He described the dream as best as he could to Sam, but withheld the feeling of dread that surrounded it. He rubbed his wrists unconsciously as he waited for Sam's response.

"Do you think there is a chance that Max is possessed?" Sam asked Dean quietly. And in response to the next question he knew that Dean would ask. "No, I mean in the classic sense. Like with a demon?"

"No. Hell, no. We would've known. Damn, she was with us for days, Sam. How would we not have known?" Dean walked into the bathroom to wash the blood off his wrists.

"The same way I didn't know that you could communicate with ghosts? _That way_?" Sam's sarcasm was not lost on his brother.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Demons are really good at pretending to be something they're not. So what does that mean? Now we have a demon running around in a pregnant woman's body? Why?"

"I think we need to look into the ceremony we _rescued_ her from. Maybe she meant to be there."

**Chapter End Notes:**

Thanks to all for your continued patience. Suggestions and comments welcome!


End file.
